Holding Onto

Wasted time and talks in the mirror 

Prepping for what lies trapped 

In tiny cartoon thought bubbles,

Hanging onto dreams that thrive in the dark 

Beneath cold sheets 

That beg to hang dry in the morning sun, 

The night playing tricks on blackened walls 

Painting pictures with disappearing ink, 

A lonely heart dying with each day repeating

Holding onto flowers with wilted stems 

In the hopes that they might bloom again.-