You still find a way to haunt my dreams. In them, I’m in your city. My heart hands low as I wander, wonderinf ig I will get the chance to see you again. Just once more. I look around every corner, hoping to see your face. That face I used to kiss, the one that haunts me so. How realistic those dreams can feel. Even in my slumber, I know that I could fly across the country with high hopes that I’ll find you, only to have you wanting anything but.

I’ll wonder if you’re still living in the same flat; the one in which you held my face and told me I was beautiful. It is your kindness which is ever so haunting. It is as though I wish you were never so kind at all, for then I wouldn’t have anything to miss.

I pray- beg, even- to the Lord above that you will cease to haunt me; in my dreams or otherwise. But the torture lives on. I find myself wondering, “What if, what if…” I will come so close to letting go, maybe even moving forward, only to close my eyes and dream of you again.

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