I had this dream where you and I tore each other apart
I had found a loose thread hanging from your seams, and persisted to fuss with it until you came all undone
I was gentle but did not understand what I was doing and I became tangled in each strand that fell
You searched for a way to start a small rip somewhere, along my torso maybe
I saw you ask yourself where the best place to start would be
We took turns clawing at each other, picking at pieces we thought would sting most
We made sure our eyes were the last to go, so we could watch each other work
When we were almost down to nothing, I looked at you and tried to spell out "I'm sorry" with blinks and winks
You began to tear up, and your eyes looked angry but so sad
I'm sure things could have been different
I remember that we couldn't finish what we intended to do
I remember that we couldn't leave ourselves in a pile next to each other
I remember trying to patch myself back together
I'm sure I was missing pieces, but as long as I could gather you up and mend you together, I knew that you could fill the pieces I was missing
The next night I had another dream, where you and I told each other everything
We stayed up all night talking about your favorite color and my favorite band,
how you wanted to change the country and about things that I can't stand
I remember laying on my bed with your legs around my waist
I remember pretending I was dead so you would have to hold my weight
I remember your hands on my torso and the look that was on your face
Monday, January 4, 2010
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