My face pressed solid against the cold concrete
my ink stained hand reaching out to you.
I can almost taste your whiskey breath again
Pale face and burning lips
dull eyes filled with desperation.

Convinced of living kaleidoscopic lives, invincible
and we don't even realise
that all we are is
scapegraces.
We used to chase our dreams
and now all we do is chasing dragons.

Listlessly I watch as flames eat my paper - my words turn to ash
nothing is good enough
a small stack of notebooks that hold our dreams
against a vast mountain of realities
- nightmares incarnate -

My heart breaks every time you take one of your paintings
off the wall,
one after the other but
we need the money, babe.
You better dream big, babe. Dream big.
Because it's all that's left for you and me.

Your paint is now as dried out as my pens
and all we are left with are clouded memories
of the time we first met,
when we were dreaming of a whitewashed future
together.
A future that now lies in ruins at our bare feet
between broken glass and shattered hopes
on the cold concrete.