Dream Me Back

I lay like that — arm above my head, one leg curled in, drowned in the smell of our bedsheet. somehow, I drifted off, and there you were again. I still do this thing where dreams change scenes like home videos. everything happens — we came back to where we wrote the letter with the pen. sorry. I was mean again. I said too much — so you stayed gone for so long. but kiss me anyway, right after I say something stupid. ’cause life only lets us get away with it once — don’t hope for twice. I used to yell whenever you touched the parts of me I tried to hide. I never said I liked it. but I did. I did crave it, thinking of when we’d meet in a dream. and this time, you really didn’t kiss me. just looked — that look that unraveled me. then it cut — to black, to white films, to black again, to the beginning. I was bad at making the ending scene. then I woke up, still waiting for something to come back, as the TV was stuck by lightning.