How is healing always slower than you want it to be?
I wish I could write about things that make me happy
But it seems that all I’m able to write about is pain and suffering
So, all I ever write about is you
Two nights ago, I had a dream again
Well, more of a nightmare
Just as I thought I was getting better
You barge back into my psyche
Like a dog, returning to its vomit
Disgusting, but predictable
In my dream, we were on a date
Something I never got to do with you
Something I wanted so badly to do with you
Something I knew I never could do
Even in my dreamworld, something was off
Your caring touch caused my stomach to turn
Your gentle gaze ran a chill of fear down my spine
Your sweet words made my skin crawl
I mean, go figure
All I’ve ever known of you is my fear of you
Of what you could do to me
Or worse
What I would let you do
2 thoughts on "How is healing always slower than you want it to be?"
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I like the two sets of repeated line beginnings that get at the relentlessness of the longing
I felt this one