Fading Dreams

A poem

Photo by on

The dream keeps slipping off my eyelids.
Right after the prick of consciousness pull me above the waves of nothingness
closing my eyes tightly
I grapple with the fading faces, words
scents and voices

And yet the slate is clean
as if I haven’t dreamed at all
God, what if I will keep on forgetting?
I’m afraid I will spend my life waking up in tears
not knowing why.