Scattered Dream like a Far-Off Memory

What a shame when a dream
opens and closes a door
leaving you to work out, once more,
what’s real and what’s not.

Too good to be true, clearly I forgot
that secret desires are just that,
a whim when you’re up to bat
and never strike out. Put it to bed.

A little thing that exists only in your head
doesn’t need fresh air.
A piece of me, never spoken, who will care?
Only, I never could let anything die.

Instead, I give it life in a hopeless lie.

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