there once was

awakening. there is something hallowed about the hypnagogic stage between dreaming & waking– the first moment when consciousness kisses the tips of her eyelids & the crisp dawn seeps through her perforated skin, as she tries to tear herself apart from the realm of dreaming. (awakening). they say that dreams sometimes mirror reality, & if that's true, she lifts her lids with her heart heavy still, watches the hazy silhouettes & shadows float through the room. watches the celling fan that spun her head into a drift of sad dream the night before. awakening. awakening percolating through her slow, steady breaths