Tripping on illusions

I’m not sure.
It’s all bizarre.
Maybe I’m dead.
Or lost.

The sun’s out.
The clouds are rolling.
Things just seem strange.
Not quite what I expected.

Last night I was at her door
I was smoking the air
I was straining to pretend she stood there
Smiling in her fluffy blue dressing gown.

I laid down my roses
Wished that she’d see them
Wished that she knew I’d been there
Wished that she’d call me

But death is a strange friend
One who just whispers
Reminds you of truth
Shows you the futility of dreams.

So I kissed you on your forehead
The way I always used to do before
I stroked your nose & saw you smile
I never knew love could feel so good

& then a shadow you became
& i’m back here in my garden
My mind is tripping with illusions
A late night expedition to the old house of love

My dreams are that something new would occur
Something amazing would grip me by my heart
That she or you would come & hold my hand
That the dreams would come to fruition.

I’d like to experience something like that again
Something pulsing like fresh blood through my veins
I’d like this summer sun to witness romance
& paint the flowers which I see in shades of love.

So I’m not sure you see
Not sure what this day is I hold in my thoughts
& I’m tripping on illusions
& I’m wishing in the garden.

~ You know that I love her, but I want to experience this life.
© ed simkins

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