A mirage:

A mirage:
Through the windows
of my home in the sky,
I peer far into the north,
plains beyond the metropolis,
mountains out of reach--
There, rays of sunlight
illuminating patches
of browns and greens--
Here, cold waves lap against my chest,
they drown me and my world is a blur:
all empty walls, and weeping gray skies.
So I put a conch against my ear,
your voice echoes into my mind,
and I miss you, and I miss you.
You leave without goodbyes,
never turning around to look.
Perhaps, to cease to exist
is to feel less real.
I dream of you, vividly, in color--
there, you hold me,
and I am loved, only in that moment,
perfectly imaginary,
that when I wake, alone,
everything spins.
I walk in circles,
trying to find you,
trying to escape you.
There you are.
From a distance,
you watch me,
I see you, and I reach out to you.
You pretend
I am not real.