Incubus

This was the feeling of a cold morning, of the bluest hour
when my breath evaporated bashing against sad painted grey skies.

I was crossing a bridge over deep dreams and cascading thoughts
and over places I wanted so much to see.

Framed in the broken frame of an old story, the dream heard life calling
but stronger was your whisper consuming my body, lost in time.

You were there yet miles away, steps behind in a past unforgiven,
while I was waiting for you, hanging between life and death.

And I kept asking you, calling you, yet your absent mind
didn’t have any answers, only silences carved in cold stone.

In the midst of this nightmare I closed my eyes. And as I tried to imagine you smile
my woman’s heart embraced you crying.
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memyselfandela, 2013