National Poetry Month - Day 19

She wants to remind me of some good day
some yesteryear, repeats a mantra of nostalgia.
"We use to think we could be..."
anything
or anyone. We're too old for fables.
Even our dreams don't end in "Happily Ever Afters..."
They've grown up. Laid down plastic swords for real knives
or fists; your bed owns a gun now, your nightmares ride bullets.