For Your Dream

Poem this is based on: "For your Dream"

You were a sultry piece of music,

Made of lust and smoke and fiction,

Your laughter curled like incense,

You were a hymn born of addiction.

You’d quote Bukowski by the bottle,

Talk of love and crucifixion,

Wrote your pain like scripture, darling,

A poet driven through affliction.

And I left before you died,

Painted you brighter in my mind,

You burned so fast, you burned so wild,

A saint of ruin, a saint divined.

Be dust, be song, the dream I can’t retrieve

Your pain was never mine to grieve.

You said life was just a story,

Of loss and sweet derision,

Of lovers blurred in hotel glass,

And gods without religion.

Now I chase your ghost in verses,

Just to see if you still listen,

But you’re gone where silence hums,

And memory finds no rhythm.

And I left before you died,

Painted you brighter in my mind,

You burned so fast, you burned so wild,

A saint of ruin, a saint divined.

Be dust, be song, the dream I can’t retrieve

Your pain was never mine to grieve.

I don’t recall your smile,

Or the shadow on your sleeve,

Just the sound of your voice

Like a record that won’t leave.

Tonight you’re just a whisper,

A whim, a fleeting theme,

I wrote your name in silence

I wrote it for your dream.