Careless finger ripple the fragile waters.

Fight not me, emptied tormentor.
Coming in blows from sides from terraces, limping derelicts of layered memories.
Break me. Oh break me.
I am shards of dreams.

Mend this shell, a gossamer shanty, a tattered vessel in endless dances of painful steps.
Calm me. Oh calm me.
I am on grounds of shallow content.
Gazing away in endless turns.

Darkened halls of crystals fallen.
Shattered… Shattered utterly.
Shattered and ground into eternity.
Touch me. Oh touch me.
Felt, healing distances poured out in lines of aged skin.

Where did I go.
Calling. Calling….. Calling.
No answer.
She walks up slowly with sullen thoughts burned in the lines of her face.

Picking up pieces.
Picking up pieces.
Picking up puzzled pieces.
No edges to fit.

Discarded. Drained.
Silently weeping across the watter.
Mists Faded.
Mists. Becalmed.

There is nothing here she cries out.
There is nothing,
Then nothing.
Then nothing…. and he is gone.

-Nichole Elizabeth Shannon, “Nikki Dreams”