Anthony Dakhoul


Bittersweet Dream - Poem by Anthony Dakhoul

Love is a strange thing.
We seem to fall in love,
with people we can not
comprehend.
Who don't love us back.
Who at first glance,
aren't what we want,
but the pain in the pit of our stomach,
the light headedness,
the dreams,
they tell us that no matter how much we fight it,
no matter how much we try to forget,
we will love them.
Until our last breath of air,
until the last tear has rolled down our wrinkled cheek.
When we stare at the face of death,
and only think about them.
Only in our mind.

It is love that when,
even at the thought of that person,
brings us to the verge tears,
makes our heart change pace.

Yet, such crippling love is empty.
The thing that drives us,
over the edge,
into depression,
into the pits of sadness and pain,
is that we will never be together.
The glimmer of light,
in our distant past,
that connection we had,
when you played with my hair,
and stared into my eyes, and smiled.
That is all but a memory.
It can never be bought back,
replayed,
replayed differently.
I would have acted so much better.
I would have never rejected you.
But that plant has died,
and cannot be revived.
But i will always keep a withered flower,
from its withered branch,
and place it in the back of my mind,
a reminder.
An indicator of an alternate future,
and alternate universe,
where it would be me and you,
without judgment,
feeling your constant touch,
your warmth,
the protection of your eyes.
if only.

It emerges often in my sleep,
yet even in my dreams you move away,
I reach out to touch you,
so close,
you beg me to follow,
and I oblige,
yet the road never ends,
the intangibility of dreams,
a true catalyst for insanity.

As I sit on the bus,
leaning my head on the foggy window,
I remember you,
I remember the dream.
I shed a tear.
And again place you in the back of my head.
You are but a memory.
I often pray to see your face again,
To see your eyes again.
But you don't love me,
you never did,
I love in silence,
I love a ghost.

That is what drives me mad,
loving someone,
who has never,
and will never,
love me back,
yet all my strength,
and my spirit,
and my heart,
can be swayed,
with just the memory of them,
or a bittersweet dream.


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Poem Submitted: Thursday, May 26, 2011

Poem Edited: Wednesday, February 20, 2013


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