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.