Imperfect Dreams

Imperfect Dreams

Imperfect Dreams
Imperfect Dreams

I’d dreamt of gold and glass and colour and light and beauty and women with smiles on their faces and love in their hearts. The city I stood in was none of those things.
Was a lie a lie to everyone or just the person who’d envisioned it? Was it wrong to have thought only the best and ignored the unashamed truths? I supposed I’d never know as I wiped the detritus from my shoes and tears from my eyes.
Another city another day would become my motto. I lived it. I hated it. Those imperfect dreams, they haunted me.

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