Dreading the heavy sand on my eyelids
fear of not controlling my dreams to only imagine you
apprehension of the truth that scolds from my subconscious
warnings that I am able to ignore when my eyes are open and thoughts are mine.
evidence the window of truth can trick one's mind…
as I'm sure I kissed you last night while my eyes were closed and the moon was high.
yet I have no memory of ever landing on a pillow,
and THAT morning…certain I swept my eyes.
©Elizabeth Zsamboki
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