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I Thought of You This Morning, Right After I Had a Nightmare

I thought of you this morning,

right after I had a nightmare.

I wished I was on the phone with you.

I know you’d ask me what's wrong.

I imagine I'd tell you.

I imagine you,

in the second blanket I use as a body pillow and clutch it tighter

as you promised to protect me.

it was fictitious, but it was all I had.

I accepted that you were done with me too easily.

I know you thought I would fight it.

I thought I would fight it.

There was a time when I was willing to beg,

willing to bleed for my mistake.

To let you punish me.

What changed?

I don't know.

Maybe I did.

That night,

your call pulled me back into the real world.

A world where you are not someone to look to for comfort or protection.

A world where you are who you are.

I was too tired to fight

Your tone told me that's all that you desired

Everything I thought I would do, I cast to the side

Because I knew

I couldn’t be vulnerable with you.

I asked myself-

Why do I like you so much?

Why can't I verbalize why I like you so much?

Why does it feel like this is something much too convoluted

too plain, too mundane for anyone else to understand?

Why is it so embarrassing?

Why don't I want to tell anyone?

To let anyone get so much as a glimpse into how this really feels?

Why is so much of the context of us unspoken?

I thought of you this morning,

right after I had a nightmare.

If you’re reading this, call, and ill tell you the truth

I didn't fight for you because I didn't see the need to.

I didn't see what I saw in you before.

I didn't fight because I knew it wouldn't be worth it.

You were enjoying yourself

in watching me crack and fall apart.

I don't care if you see this, or anything else I say ever about you.

I didn't say those things to hurt you. Nothing I ever did was to hurt you

I'm sorry.

Too many missed called unanswered texts made me weary of you.

Made me feel like I was getting the same trick on me played twice

But you aren't him.

I apologize

These are the consequences of my actions.

I accept them.

That's what I wanted to say to you.

But again,

I don't think you care very much.

You'd rather play chess by yourself

than open up.

You'd much rather watch pages

than pick up the phone

I only ever watched when you wanted me to.

For a while,

I only did what I thought you want me to do.

You didn't ask.

It's just what I'm used to.

I thought about you this morning,

right after I had a nightmare

I thought about that too.

Why do you mean this much to me?

Why did I think of you?

Why did it have to be you?

Why was I looking to a stranger for refuge?

Why was I so hung up on you?

None of it makes sense anymore.

I thought of you this morning,

right after I had a nightmare

I'm thinking this will be one of the last times I think of you this way

In reverence

Next time, it will be about how I don't think about you

nearly as much as I used to.

I'm thinking this will be the last time I use you as a crutch

The last time I have a reaction

outside of the reality you've shown me.

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