Keep Art Alive :: Art by Christian Schloe
“And I know we have to go,
we always have to turn away.
Always have to go back to real lives,
but real lives are why we stay,
for another dream.”
I visited you again last night, your dark eyes wide and full of wonder, your hair a mess, and your hands, reaching across to mine, all long fingers and freckled skin. The memories, over time they evolve, some details fading into the backdrops, others becoming more precise, defined, in color. The paint brush dabbles and dots the design, of you, of I, and a time that gets longer ago by the day.
We were never meant for the long haul, never meant for vows and the creases of old age. Instead, we floated in some in-between space in time, away from it all, away from the reality of real life. Your voice lifted me, opened me up, played my skin and bones like keys on a piano, or strings on an acoustic guitar. I brought words to you, papers and pages of poetry, prose, pretend without pretense. Together we lit up the light polluted sky.
Sometimes when I dream about you I see ocean in your heavy lidded eyes, and as your mouth opens to speak to me, moonbeams trickle out, falling to the ground, changing in the process to daisy petals. Is it indiscretion if we only meet in created words? Is it anything at all beyond a fictionalized fractured fairy tale? Is it memory, this escape from real life? Were you always just a dream?
I have spent more hours with you, in these dreams, then we ever spent in real life.
“One last time before it’s over.
One last time before the end.
One last time before it’s time to go again...”
Out of This World (live) :: The Cure