compass

 

your eyes shine

like fool’s gold caught in the sun, and

at times I might get caught up in

the magic they offer, the

promises they hold…

and maybe I might even pretend

I believe in your dreams, because

maybe we dream in similar tunes…

but in the morning

your eyes are dulled and

the magic is gone and I see all the cracks in

your stories and once again

I hear only my own dreams…

 

©2017 erin hoffman – all rights reserved

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