I find myself in a small, familiar room.
It’s a sacred place.
It was a place of pure imagination.
It was a place where you could view paradise.
It was a place of relaxation.
It was a place where I could be lost but not afraid.
I wish this room was more than a room again,
Why did those days ever have to go?
I wonder.
This small room hasn’t changed at all.
There’s still an unnecessary amount of white papers
With beautiful, black musical notes on it,
Stacked and spread around like skyscrapers in a city.
There’s still no room to explore this confined, yet marvelous city,
Where time had gone mad and jazz was the only thing that made sense.
I see the instrument that made this place so special.
I see the golden saxophone.
Beautiful music came from this golden saxophone,
It created such a glorious empire in this small room.
I want to touch the golden saxophone,
But I stop myself.
I cannot touch or move this sacred item
That once belonged to the person that created this once special kingdom.
I see another instrument that was part of this majestic, forgotten world.
I see the purple guitar.
I smile at it and pick it up.
I grab the pick and strum the strings on the purple guitar.
I hoped that the sounds of the strings would make this small room a place of pure imagination again,
But it could not do that.
Only the golden saxophone had such a power.
I wish sweet jazz in the golden saxophone would come back once more in this room.
I go towards the window,
And see a black, grand cathedral under construction.
It’s intimidating and frightening that it’s reaching unimaginable heights.
I look to my left,
And I see a red Bible placed on top of stacked, white papers.
I reach out to grab it,
When all of a sudden I’m tackled and taken down.
I hit the floor hard on my back,
And someone is on top of me.
It’s a woman in a black dress.
I look at her face,
And I can’t seem to recognize her.
This is someone new.
She is beautiful, but she does scare me.
She smiles at me with her sharped, fanged teeth,
And she bites my neck.
I scream in pain,
As my blood is pouring on sacred ground.
I can’t breathe now.
She laughs at me and continues biting my neck.
Then, she stabs me in the heart with her sharp, animal-like nails.
I cry as the pain is too real.
She suddenly stops and starts kissing my bloody neck.
Then, she comes to my ear,
She whispers don’t run away.
Everything turns black.
This is the end of part four of the Dream Girls series. Be sure to like, share and comment your thoughts on this poem!
I will be posting and sharing part five of Dream Girls on Thursday!
The Warfield Zone 