I don’t love you anymore.
I don’t want you anymore.
But my body is still processing the loss you.
I dream of you, almost every night.
But not the good parts.
Not the lie I fell in love with.
I dream about the truth.
I dream about who you really are.
A stranger.
My brain keeps telling my body,
“He’s not real.”
My body keeps asking,
“Are you sure?”