After I woke up sweating profusely sitting up in my
bed I asked myself why exactly it is that I
can still meet with you in the deepest corners of my
dreams that draw out into complete darkness.
Every time I see you I ask if you’re
free now or if you ever defeated those
ghosts who turned your smile into something that reminded me of
hell or how about if you ever think about you and
I. Then I remember this is
just a dream and it’s not really you; I
know it’s my mind making up the life I wished you would have
lived. Is it still okay for me to tell you I
miss you every time I laugh and I hope even though there is
no hope that you will come back one day like you never left?
Or can I remind you how I will
probably never look at my house the same because I know
quite well you will never be in it again? I must ask if you
remember me at all because I
still remember you—as if I could ever forget.
The stray cat you found on the road still sleeps with me
under the blanket because you taught her to and I wonder if it’s the
void you created that she is trying to help me fill. So I ask
“when will you be back?” but I know you won’t because there is an
X over everything that was yours once but now belongs to no one.
You told me you’d always be here for me so I will keep your things in a
ziplock bag until you come back because I know you must be coming back.
bed I asked myself why exactly it is that I
can still meet with you in the deepest corners of my
dreams that draw out into complete darkness.
Every time I see you I ask if you’re
free now or if you ever defeated those
ghosts who turned your smile into something that reminded me of
hell or how about if you ever think about you and
I. Then I remember this is
just a dream and it’s not really you; I
know it’s my mind making up the life I wished you would have
lived. Is it still okay for me to tell you I
miss you every time I laugh and I hope even though there is
no hope that you will come back one day like you never left?
Or can I remind you how I will
probably never look at my house the same because I know
quite well you will never be in it again? I must ask if you
remember me at all because I
still remember you—as if I could ever forget.
The stray cat you found on the road still sleeps with me
under the blanket because you taught her to and I wonder if it’s the
void you created that she is trying to help me fill. So I ask
“when will you be back?” but I know you won’t because there is an
X over everything that was yours once but now belongs to no one.
You told me you’d always be here for me so I will keep your things in a
ziplock bag until you come back because I know you must be coming back.