Could Have Been My WordsThe voice through the speakers croonsLines I well could have written for youA testament, a profession—still these are wordsMore than I can express—a truth that burnsTime and distance will stake no claimEven now my love remains the sameThrough devastation, utter confusion and painMy resolve, my absolute devotion remains unchanged
AnticipationBreathing in anticipationI feel the ghost of jubilationHope is such a revelationTo be aware, a strange sensation
ChangelingLittle mischief makerBeautiful Changeling childTiny Pixie darlingWinsome Trickster smileDeep blue gateways, so keen, charm fullInfectious chiming tone, enchanted soothing lullLove given freely, to those worthy as she deemsWorlds born of words, from days spent a-dream.Celestial face, ever shining sun, of my darkest daysHow have I proven worthy, what did I do, to deserve this gift of fey?
More Real Than Real…And when I awake, I awake to wistfulness or some stronger unnamed emotion. It courses through and leaves me utterly hopeless, longing for what I left behind in my dreams. I lay motionless for a while with the taste of melancholy in my mouth, terrified to forget the beautiful impossibility that sleep brings. I don't want my waking world to wash away the bittersweet escape my mind constructed. Sadly, I must arise before the mere memory of an illusion destroys me where I remain. What moments ago brought me comfort is just as capable of breaking me completely.