Dreams

What is it about the unobtainable
that attracts the lovelorn?
How strongly desire holds on
bleeding the heart of every drop or dream.

Dream I can no more
only the lost dreams of the loveless
fill my empty heart.

Each night draws in passing endless time
that never seems to wait or realise
I need a while.

I hold on to yesterday,
a nothingness that cannot grow.
Love has withered as change blossoms
and my pain can only flourish now.

Consumed I am by weeds of self doubt,
entangled in the web I weaved.
I weep not for myself
but for that which I could have been,
for the wings I have ensnared.

©J Cole