Bottled Dreams

The stars
play with my eyes.
They drag their
dust across
my arid corneas
(siphoning their
waning energy).
I weep for nights
when I can’t
touch their majesty,
when my eyes
burn from the
chains holding
them to pages
(words appreciated
but enforced
nonetheless).
I want to capture
a thousand dreams
and hold them
in a bottle,
where I can drink
them anytime
I feel too exhausted
to be alive.

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