Sometimes
I have lovely dreams
Of being with her again,
They are so realistic
and all I want is to grasp every moment,
And turn it into reality.
It’s all I’ve ever wanted.
To be with her,
Happy and healthy,
For as long as time allows.
But time won’t.
The crippled hands of disease stole her from my arms.
Cancer ripped her soul from her limp body.
Cancer destroyed every part of who she was.
Every time,
I wake up, drenched in my tears.
Although my dreams are joyous,
I know they aren’t real.
And never can be.
Every time,
I find myself trying to go back to sleep.
But I am to frustrated to.
Slamming my fists to the soaked pillow
And biting into my gums
Because never again will she walk down these halls.
My dreams are my happy escape,
But at the same time
They are my nightmares.
Porcelain Prose 
I, too, have lived in nightmares. Some of them seem to never end. You fight and you tire. At last, something awakens. It is that spirit. Perhaps, a kindred one that brings meaning. Meaning and compassion seem to align. The recognization that, indeed, we are not here. They are not here. But, others are here. Like pieces of a puzzle, we understand that we are one.