i have a recurring dream of turning you down every night
i then wake up angry, because i try so hard to not think of you
and as soon as my head hits the pillow my walls fall and here we
are
in a cafe, pub, bar, park, greggs, home. And you're sitting downsmiling at me- unafraid(/vulnerable), then my gargoyle-cold face turns away to what someone else is saying- but the camera of my sleep still focuses on you and you're pain, it's interesting, it reveals a more, honest side
watching the eyebrows raise in suprise, not wanting to believe in what I'm doing a cautiously slow, unsure hand reaches out for mine,
and
no.
it's not happening, you clock, looking left and right in the hope no one saw that rejection while trying to comprehend this situation, how, a man, who you where so sure was in the palm of you hand has turned you down. Damn, i bet that hurts. and, now the regrets start running through your head, wondering at what point the string had me on snapped.
when i sleep you cry for me to hold you again, tell me you regret the games and the other men and if i just come back things will be just like they where again,
when i sleep you cry for me to hold you again, tell me you regret the games and the other men and if i just come back things will be just like they where again,
and
no.
you can't, you made your bed and now sleep, with him, with them, those men aren't me and now you see how happy you where and how much happier you still could have been and i hate to you, be mean, i have, to be strong here because this dream is the only place i can do this
and
I can't do that in the real world, when i wake up i'll day-dream about you being my girl, answer all your calls, let you stroke my arm, hug and hook my arm and pretend we didn't actually do it for real and i'll play along because a part of me will try to convince my self it still is and i will hate myself for it, so for now let me profit from this make-believe pain of yours.
and hope that in time I'll close these doors.
(letting in a fucking draft)