I really want to know
if you feel the same.
If you miss me
like how insanely I do.

But I don't want to know
because there might be
nothing to know,
nothing you feel.

I hugged you
for the last time in my dreams
I savour it for the last
two ever lasting seconds.

It was time to let go,
to no longer explicitly love you
but to disguise you,
discreetly as a weak spot.

A weak spot which I gladly
accept and embrace
loathe and love
consume and crave.