I wake from the same dream each morning, or a dream so much
like the previous dream I ache over it all day, not just a memory or
premonition, just what is at this moment, the feel of it still around me when I
open my eyes and find she’s not really there, raising the question as to why I
need to retrace my steps along the same path, feeling what I continue to feel
and want what I still want, always wanted, and always will.
I wake each morning to the lingering fragments of what I
thought I had in sleep, the touch and the taste, the feel of the deep plunge,
as if off a bridge into dark mysterious waters that consume me, this wet world
filled with visions of her eyes, and sensations of bliss I do not feel when
awake, save for the perpetual ache that haunts me all day until I can dream
again.
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