Slumber

I should wish to fall into a deep sleep. Not a stir, not a pulse shall wake me. Deep sleep where purple fields grow blue daisies and ash-white clouds float under the ease of a moonlight sun. There, where imagination renders all other senses ancillary, the palette of my skin will be cleared white of its blemishes. I will quietly fall back, eyes closed, onto a surreal world of secret chest drawers and buried lockets and yellowed photographs. This world is a world where drifters are never lost and sailors will never come home. A place of defiance, and dreams. A place where as a child, I so longed to wake up to but rarely remembered in the mornings. I want to belong here; I wish only to be made of air.

-Amanda