it’s funny how dreaming of you softens the edges of hate. maybe it is like this because of the fabric in which dreams are threaded, so soft and cozy in those early hours of the morning, between alertness and sleep. maybe it is the vapors of the hot shower, so warm and inviting, that mingle and mangle my memories and trick the brain, making me replay the image of your best smile, the one back from times when shit wasn’t so bad. or maybe the dreaming thaws what’s frozen in my heart, since every time it happens, it’s the same thing, the exact same scene: a phone that rings and your voice that calls my name from the other side, so small and needy, and I imagine your lips moving softly, pleadingly, imagine your body as I cross the distance in a blink, shoulders hunched in defeat, and you look broken, feel broken as I put my arms around you, surrounded in a hug, like a fragile thing that fell from its nest.

and you are the one to talk about how I’ve always been unable to resist ’em broken things…


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One Response to “constant”

  1. Rana H Says:



now, your turn!

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