by Nick Gisburne
What makes you think you lived your life with me?
I may be just a mirage in your mind,
A helpless hope for what could never be,
The embers of a dream you fought to find.
We’re whispers, you and I. We don’t exist,
Destroyed before we knew we disappeared,
Illusions, magic, memories of mist,
Invisible, exactly as we feared.
The fabric of the world we thought was real
Has vanished in imaginary smoke,
The lie, the light we strove to see, to feel,
Deluded by the wishes we awoke.
Tomorrow, in oblivion, by chance,
If destiny is willing, let us dance.
