Bitter Dreams

I must have been dreaming that night you existed,
I must have been sleeping that day you appeared.
But merely a fantasy, a shadow so twisted
a delusion of joy hiding all that I feared.

I wanted a flower, and I got a petal;
I wanted an ocean and I got pond.
So I lie here on this cold, dark metal
washing away with tears that of which I'm fond.

When did our dreams die? When did we stop?
When did I realize I can't see the top?
In case I can't see you, this message I'll send:
"I'll meet you again at the place where dreams end."

~Haruki