I woke up talking to my lover about dreams. The slither of his sleepy eyelids reminded me of the glimpses I see of his soul when I search in the oceanic blue of his eyes. He fell back into his suppressed consciousness, leaving me wondering if he'd remember looking at me. I whispered into his ear, "Dream of me, dream of me." But then I laid back and sighed deep into the onyx of my pillow. Is loving me a nightmare?
I wanted to be number one; the center of someone's universe. Instead, I've written out another eulogy for a happy day, as if dawn never needs to rest. How much longer will I cry wolf without realizing that one day the only wolf howling to the moon will be me? In the end I just wanted to be the only hungry woman for him, but who wants to feed a beast?
Devouring almost everything trying to figure out what's right, I've acted like my appetite becomes satiated. But it seldom does. I'm not eating to feel full and he doesn't trust that I won't bite. If I rolled over and said "I never meant to hurt you" would he wake up at the sound of my voice and believe me? Would he recognize the hound he once knew?
Today he woke up sad. Knowing this the blood left my limbs and ran to my head, and my temples swelled up with agony. A jealous friend wanted to know nothing about me and I made him push her away. Why because she reminded me of my ex's mother who possessed a complex? How often does my partner suffer in silence? I'm seeing now that part of living is sometimes suffering quietly and he does it so well, unlike me who requires a parade of criers every time someone shits the bed.
My lamb is struggling inside and it's mostly my fault and it kills me.
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