If I’m Over You, Why Do I Still Dream About You?
i. I only sleep when I drink and I’m trying not to do that as much. Drink, I mean. Sleep is a privilege, not a guarantee. It only shows up midday. Shows up when I need to be doing other things. Sleep’s a tease that way. Only texting when I turn off the phone. Says, “Love, just rest your head. You had a long night. You’re so tired, aren’t you?” Sleep only wants me when I don’t want it back.
ii. If I drink, I dream about you. If I don’t, I do too. This is a lose-lose.
iii. Sometimes I dream you’re really mad at me. Usually about the poems. The hanging on. The baby, please, just look at me again. You’re yelling and it always sounds weird because I’m not even sure how you sound when yelling. Did you ever yell at me? Why can’t I remember? Why is your voice only soft? Why is your voice only patient? Wasn’t there a fight? Was I the only one being loud?
iv. There’s one I always think about. I’m in your apartment. You share it with her. There are photos of you together everywhere. I don’t understand why I’m there and why I’m looking at all these goddamn photos. You walk out of the kitchen. You drop whatever you’re holding. You kiss me. I wake up with guilt on my tongue. Part of me doesn’t care. Part of me wants you to take me right there, on top all the photos.
v. Remember? I loved you first.
vi. I am over it most of the time. I have kissed other mouths and made homes in arms that don’t look anything like yours. I don’t even think we work anymore. You scare me a little. You are calculating in a way you didn’t used to be. I wonder if you’re still sweet. If you’d still rest your head in my lap and sing songs with me. Maybe not. I don’t want to find out. But the dreams still happen.
vii. I am not in love with you. I understand I don’t know you. But I see you most nights. I hope one day it stops. 