The motion of these memories, dreams,
they sway, churn like ocean waves;
I hold my breath and ride them.
There are flashes of recollection,
snippets of presumed realities,
things I would turn from, but I’m unable; they haunt me.
When sleep terrifies more than day
and darkness is a shroud, I remember her words:
open your eyes. Just open your eyes.
I have, but still they’re closed.