Reiteration Of Dreams

I’ve taken heed,
I know the precautions,
I don’t eat cheese before bed,
I don’t tend to eat anything before I sleep, actually,
eating is not a hobby these days,
it’s a survival tactic.

The simple point being:
I brush teeth, insert a plastic mouth guard, let the head fall to the pillow,
and that’s it,
I’m out I’m gone I’m essentially asleep.
yet somehow you are still weaving within and without my dreams.

It has become a longing nuisance to see the parts of you that are caught in my thoughts.

your neck,
the single vein prominence that runs it’s center,
creating that lifeline stretched by skin so smooth.
The down of your arms,
a thing I never before thought that I would manifest feelings through.
The back of your knees,
the inside part where they bend,
the popliteal fossa,
where the fractal creases in your skin are just nanometers deeper.
The freckles,
I don’t need to explain the freckles,
they speak for themselves.

These things,
along with the voice,
along with the wrinkling of a nose,
they permeate my thoughts.

Here’s the underlying theory:
we live over,
endlessly keeping it clear
thinning the bridges between mistakes.
With each life,
we are reminded of the failure or success that is to come,
it shines through our old souls like
an opaque fingerprint
wiped clean by a wet towel.

I think that you were that to me,
you were an experience that I have lived
hundreds if not thousands of times,
and every time I dreaded losing it,
losing you.

a sort of Pre-loss;
like I knew,
but I couldn’t have known.

I’m not one to let things go too easily,
but I guess I have infinite iterations
in order to figure it out.
And for now I guess I’m at peace with just that.


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