What’s the crime in dreaming?
In wanting what I want
In expecting I might get it?
Dreams of things, people, connection
Dreams, lost dreams, dashed dreams
I don’t get it.
Had what I dreamt of for many years
Woke up one year and the dream had died
Not the person, just the dream
A slow death, for me
But none for her, she says, crying gallons of tears.
I never dreamed that scene.
Maybe she was just made up in my imagination all along
And I just didn’t know it.
No dead dream for her; still loves me?
How was I supposed to know?
She didn’t show it
Till now.
Even if I believe, it’s probably too late.
Woke up with other dreams.
What’s the crime in that?
What’s the crime in dreaming?
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