They told me dreams wore satin shoes,

and came with open doors.

They didn’t say the knobs were rusted,

or dreams slept on cold floors.

They painted paths in golden hues,

with signs that said “success.”

But never mentioned tolls and turns,

or days I’d feel like less.

They promised love was soft and sweet,

a ribbon tied in grace.

They didn’t warn of silence thick,

or tears on someone’s face.

They handed maps, drew dotted lines,

spoke bold in what I’d be.

But now I walk with hands half-closed,

and truths they didn’t see.

Still—I’ve found beauty in the cracks,

and warmth in broken light.

Reality may not wear silk,

but sometimes, it fits right.