Today's prompt is to "stretch your comfort zone with line breaks." Apparently this could mean very long lines or very short lines, or a mix of both. I think I tend to dabble in mid-length. It makes me antsy when a line is much longer or much shorter than the others. So I guess a mix of both it is.
I am a night owl and it is just after midnight that I'm working on this and I'm struggling to figure out what to write about. I have a tendency to not write until very late resulting in poems published late, unless I stay up and work on them when the next day's poetry prompt goes live, but I don't know what to write about. Contrary to the thought that just popped in my head, I am NOT going to write about that.
I once had a dream
that you
died.
I said it couldn't be true
It couldn't be right.
But others insisted.
So I put on blackandwenttothefuneralandsat in the back
full of fear
That your family would sneer
And snarl "What are you doing here?"
And there, in front of the church
In an open coffin
You lay
All pale.
My heart pounded
pounded
pounded
in my chest
and my ears.
This isn't right.
I said.
I awoke in a sweat, my heart racing, my mind in a haze of confusion: was it true?
Had I lost you?
You
called
Early
in the morning.
"I'm glad you called," I said, "I dreamed you were dead."
You seemed completely unphased
You joked.
Joked.
"That's right, I'm calling from the grave."
I must have objected.
You
Asked how it'd happened
"Something about a car and a bridge."
You made a joke
Again.
"Well that couldn't be true,
I don't drive cars."
You told me I needed to change something I was doing
That was giving me weird dreams.
Then you changed the subject.
But it still nags at me.
If something happened to you
Would I know?
Would I be
told?
And really, I guess
it boils
down
to
this:
Does anyone
anyone
in your world
know we are
a
"we?"
Losing you is perhaps
my greatest fear
But the thought haunts me
haunts
me
Would I even know
if
you
disappeared?
So yeah, that was interesting,
Sharon
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