Here I am again, as many of us have been over several years.
A series of teary-eyed nights, ember-end cigarettes; all seared into my lungs and my mind.
I feel myself writing as I sigh.
Scribbling as I still pine,
playing events in my head like a movie looking always to rewind.
And instead I look up and I'm staromg at a younger version of me thinking
"It's a mirror."
Because I've been foolish like a child.
Wanting to grow but always moving nearer
to a more-closed more-hurt version of me wishing to be lulled
to sleep.

You can give so much love, and effort,
and still be met with indominable ache.
And that's okay.
Sometimes there's no bad guys.
You can make no mistakes and still end your nights feeling some sort of way.

I found you in one of my dreams again.
Sprinkled across my dreams like stars on a clear night sky.  
          And just like stars I couldn’t look away.
          And just like with the sun rising, I didn’t want the dreams to slowly fade into the bright yellow gleam of wakefulness.

Another week or two goes by and I find myself chasing after a bemused you in my dreams.
I’d close my eyes and try to capture it with words, but words failed me. Another dream, another attempt.
           Growing self-contempt.
Looking out for a few choice boats in a sea of words without a lighthouse is almost its own oxymoron.

Slow rising from a deep slumber its own burden.
And while I’m stirring awake turning to sit up I realize how much I am with yearning.

I can’t thank you enough for it. For the memories and the words they’ve inspired.
And as far and in between our interactions are right now, the dreams are a reminder of myself as much as they are of you.

A small reminder that at times where I have hated the words, I have also sincerely loved them. Yours and mine.