I dreamt about you last night.
Your hands were on my hips,
And we were kissing.
You enveloped me in your arms
And kissed me faster,
Leaving me breathless,
Hungry for more.
But then you pulled away,
And before I could protest,
You whispered the words
“I love you”
For the very first time.
You said it with such sincerity and matter-of-factness
That I kissed you again—
Not with passion or excitement,
But gently
And only once.
Then I said,
“I love you, too,”
And we kept kissing
And kissing
And kissing.
It felt so real
That when I awoke this morning
I could still feel your lips pressed against mine.
You don’t love me,
And I know I don’t love you,
But it would be nice if we did,
If we could.
Let’s face it, though.
We’re both too damaged
To ever
Love
Again.