Magic Realism
If you dream of me I will appear,
soft-edged as if a dream.
Forget to believe in me I will fade away,
shimmering and glittering as if a cloud of dust.
Even though I only die in your dreams,
my body will cease to exist,
you know I will be no more.
When I am gone,
bury me in your backyard
and plant a seed above my body.
Once it takes root I will come back to you,
growing strong, leafy, and green,
an oak tree to watch over you forever.
I am the ocean in which you swim,
my legs the sand between your toes.
I melt through your fingers
for we can never be.
I am nothing but an endless acid trip.
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