Nightmares Part II; An Open Letter to An Ex-.

I still dream about you, altogether too often. In my waking hours I'm content with forgetting you, content to allow the slow wake of days wash away the memory of what I still know to be a disastrous connection. You were right to say that I am slow to trust; once that's been lost, I have nothing left to give.

But when I dream of you,

(it's very painful to admit this)

I dream of reconciliations. Gentle explanations. Revisions. Things we both should have said to each other. Undoings and remakings. And, as with all dreams, there is a strange pervading logic that inhibits my senses, tells me that this is right and worthwhile, and my affection for you blooms all over again. I forget my humiliation. I forget my own stupidities. It doesn't help that this dream invariably involves spectacularly delicious reconciliation-sex.

Waking from these dreams either involves a slow, tortuous realignment of my senses and my memory with the true state of things, or else I awake with a heavy heart, in no wise rested, squinting in the dull light of day.

I am still content to be as I am, unseeking and unsought-for. I have no further interest in heartache. I wish I could stop dreaming of you.

paulmonster-bdh/sans souci

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