Aurora

un-ending slumber infuse her living days, reality never ceasing

her wonderous dreams. how to make her come alive?

maybe a sweet kiss would finally do the trick,

like in mere fairytales. may love be the key to unlocking

her sanity. but she is too full of her own reveries to

open her heart to anything else.

staring out over horizons, watching auroras evelop the awakening world

glimpsing the dawn as the moon arises up, the world finally asleep.

phony dawn, sealed in daydreams. gazing at the sun through the moon,

but dear, dawn comes before sunrise. you will never see it

during midnight.

she'd rather walk in streets, eyes closed, than open;

i. lie in fields of wild dandelions than sunflowers; so she can wish on their seeds, scattering them deep into the earth

ii. catch the ends of provisional rainbows than admiring them from a window sill; hopefully she'll unearth pots of her strayed senses

iii. toss silver dimes into bottoms of fountains than saving copper pennies; her dimes carry segments of her whispering hopes, drowning them in wavering trickles

iv. count shooting stars than gaze at the full moon; maybe if she hopes on enough stars, the sky will finally discern her

now, to say all that was delusional, she would pity

my ignorance. to strip all that away, she would no longer

have a beating heart. she lives to illusions, vicious.

aurora.