These Dreams...

I don't love you, but I still dream about you. I don't want you in my life, but it's like we're old friends when I sleep. She's always there, in our house we built. Completely unbothered, she is, as we catch up on what's happening in our lives.

Sometimes the dog is there, neighbors, old friends, family members. New faces I've never seen.

I wander in and discover you're happy to see me and it is in that exchange where I have to wonder if you dream of me too. That isn't true, I know you do.

In the flesh, there is no denying; it was never going to work. All the fussing and fighting, the making up and doing it all over again. The times we had the same dreams, so yes, I know you do.

All of it rendered me a shell of a human for quite a time and you would think I would loathe these dreams, but I don't.

I wake feeling whole again. Like a missing piece of myself has been restored. I lay there with my eyes closed, recreating the feeling, not wanting to wake. And my days are always better after these dreams. I feel alive, energized, as if my batteries were officially recharged.

And it's sad to me, that in this waking life, there are no words. I see you, infrequently, and we are complete strangers. Two souls who never knew each other it would seem.

But only in these dreams, you are a sibling, lover, friend, a tie that cannot be broken. Perhaps in another life these hearts will beat differently.