Monday, June 17, 2013


Again. The same nightmare wakes me up.
I turn the now empty pages I read so many times: where are the words that for so long warmed my heart, the fire that would always light up my life when everything else seemed to be burnt to ashes..? Where were the lines I followed over and over, out loud and in silence, a manthra to remind me how life could still be fine..?

Desperately I search for the book I never wrote, just to find two hundred blank pages inside a rotting cover, faded colors, half-eaten by moths and stained by dust.

Outside, the heavy rain bangs on my window, the thunder rolls louder than the void of the streets. Still I can hear my own heartbeat. Reality calls, I'm still alive, maybe it wasn't just a nightmare.

Close my eyes. I'm not safe in a dream.

"You were never there..." - it whispers, and vanishes.

And I know dawn will find me crying.

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