poems, prose and
other pretty words
© 2010-2014
Chel Mercado

                      scribbled on a hotel room notepad
lost you
in the dreaming.
in the stars and
every constellation you can('t) name.
  oh , what's in a name  ?
a rose by any other name, I
think,     would smell as sweet    (and
probably look the same,too) don't you
think that every weed is dreaming
there is a garden for her somewhere?
out there, my/your/our name(s)
mean everything, darling. but I am only day-dreaming.
am only a silly, silly girl, you
know. and
you're my silly little boy. and
now it seems  we are  somewhere
but nowhere.    (I know you
not by face and not by name)
Am I
only dreaming?
(who does that anymore?) and
who needs sleep anymore?   I
don't have the time for those things. somewhere,
we are busy. we are killing in the name
know we are killing in the name of-all that you
are      dreaming -
killing in the name
    - of, love. and
death. and life. somewhere
you are lying in the stars. I
        know that I left you
somewhere     in the dreaming-
I woke up and forgot your name.