little girl
who dreamed me up
do not wake until
the morning sun rises
and the myst of the
night has been
burned away
I am just a product of your imagination
something you have
thought up as you walked along
those streets at night
the rain birthing from those clouds
and you
alone
cold
you needed someone
and there I was
But when you wake,
I will be gone
never really having existed
only whisps of smoke
in the synapses of your mind
and an empty place
when you lay in bed.
-kmt
©2008
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
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