Wedged

Dreams shatter into quiet visions
the more I'm in hunger for your
presence to blow me with magic
while breathing irrational harmony
that only I can sincerely understand,
but you're no longer around to feed
sentiments that are craving your breath.

I know I only move on all through sad
music, at the last division of desperate
poems that are never finished yet
constantly abandoned like me. You
were trusted to be that last person
I'd need to rest on his chest, and I
wish to believe that still.

By: Rania Moallem