Note:One in Four's content is accessible to all versions of every browser. However, this browser may not support basic Web standards, preventing the display of our site's design details. We support the mission of the Web Standards Project in the campaign encouraging users to upgrade their browsers.

 
 

Dreaming by Mick

Here's something†I wrote a long time ago (think†I was about 17/18) about my first love, shortly

after†I told her what I'd been through she decided she couldn't deal with it and she dumped me.

Dreaming
The happy dreams often make me cry
But the bad ones are worse.

I hear your voice
Speaking, muttering or crying.
But itís not for me anymore.

I talk to you, love into your eyes.
But you say nothing, sometimes look away.
I kiss your smile, and worship-
But when I tell you, you look sad,
Start to cry and turn your back to me.

Sometimes I see you
At the top of that hill, by the tree.
Youíre looking at the sun-
Itís red and going down.
I can feel some whispering breeze on my face,
Caressing and soothing.
You wrap your arms around yourself
And pretend not to notice.

In one dream you were dancing.
Your eyes were closed
And you looked like some light-driven dynamo,
Every twirl and swirl and sway,
Giving off energy so bright.
So bright you were on fire.

You burned into my eyes
Your form finely etched into my mind.

In another you were lying
On the grass by the river.
You looked like you thought
Nothing on this earth mattered.
You said nothing that time.
Did nothing. But I could see into your eyes.

They looked so empty-
I thought if I fell in there
Iíd never make it out.

Now you look on someone else.
Those eyes, that smile,
That voice, that touch...
Do you ever dream of me?
(Donít answer that)

Sometimes when I see you
On the street or in a bar,
Our eyes lock for a second.

I feel sad then,
Because whatever was to pass between us,
Gets grabbed up by a wind
Which has no sympathy.

Or maybe it has too much.
The more I think of it,
The less Iíd like to know.

What matters is youíre always there,
In my dreams, my daydreams,
My thoughts to pass away the days.

I canít remember how you laughed.
I think Iíd like that.
Itís the only thing Iíve forgotten.
I can see the grin and the flushing cheeks,
But I canít hear the laugh.
Why canít I hear you laugh?

My dreams of you are bad ones,
Because you're no longer with me.

(Sometimes I lose myself in raindrops.
Little reflections of frozen worlds.
Moments of time captured
For less than a second.
The tears of angels,
Sitting on their clouds weeping for us.

Itís scary how much they cry.)

 
 

Contact information

Run for and by people who have experienced sexual abuse.