What dreams may come…

I moved away. Put over 1000 miles of distance between who am I and what we were. I said my peace, even in the face of the goodbye he wouldn’t let me have. The closure he denied. I went anyway. “My destiny not tied to anyone who would let me leave.” I drove slowly. Meandered. A week later I made it to my new home and fell into much-needed sleep before even unloading the car. And there he was. There they were. Nestled into my subconscious like a loathsome parasite. Waiting like winter even in the promise of spring.

In these dreams it is always she who approaches me. Forthcoming, apologetic. I am the eternally furrowed brow, guarded yet receptive. I am the breath before belief.

“He never forgot you. You were always the ultimate to him. Everything, everyone…he always compared them to you. It was difficult for me. I never felt I measured up.”

“What?” I half-whisper barely meeting her gaze. “Really?”

He is always in the background, just out of focus. I try to look at him to see if what she’s saying is true but I can never quite see him. His entire presence is a half-whisper and it barely meets my gaze.

I woke up with my heart in ashes. Each powdery bit of residue a question that I will never have an answer to.

Even here? Even now? Why? What is this? Why won’t he let me go? Why can’t there be one place in this world where I can be that he isn’t? And where is he now? Home? With her? Does he ever think of me? Or do I remain a footnote while he is the entire book?

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