Every night you visit me in a sick and twisted way.
Not sick as in perverse,
But sick because I still crave your presence.
Sick because you do not exist in my life.
Not twisted as in wrong,
But twisted as in your appearance is not how you really are…
I know you do not resemble what I see in my dreams.
And it’s not every night,
It just seems so often…
And it’s weird because we never touch
And it’s weird because I am longing for connection
And it’s weird because there is a pregnant pause
And the whole time I am waiting
It’s all over now.