Last night I dreamed of you.
I dreamed you came to me,
Slid your arms around me,
And whispered your apoligies.
"So sorry I'm late. Don't know what
I was thinking."

I used to remember dreams.
Fantastical images in vibrant colors,
Crazy plots that could
Frighten or entertain.

I haven't dreamed in
Three weeks.
"She wants him.
He wants to die"
Is enough to push her to
Never dream again.
She does not want to see
What she saw last night.

Is she not drowning enough?
He makes uninvited cameo appearances
In her head, and she,
Only she,
Is full of cold, choking anguish.
Grieving, they all say.

Grieving what?
Oh, right.
"He wants to die"

This is how the story  really goes:
"She wants him
He wantED her
He leaves, lives
She withers."

Strange twist of events.
She will cling to those nights
Where sleep comes for a few hours
And she clings to the mirages of him.
Personal torture, knife turning in stomach
Windpipe suffocating, immobilizing
Absolute heartache,
But at least she can see him.
And at least he is happy.