I’m good luck
eleven am here
ten there we flirt
about the dream you had last night
my hand on your leg in a theatre
some shit I would pull
she says dreams are weird
fun and weird
and six months ago she started dreamin about me
I noticed
findin you a birthday present
didn’t matter then she was
sleepin next to someone else
I was sleepin alone back then
it was all about
bad omens
not anymore
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I love this poem.