I had a dream about you last night. I wanted to write it down before I forget. I came to visit you and I was sitting on your bed, which wasn’t your bed, or your room at all, but in the dream it was. You stroked my cheek and brushed the hair out of my face. I felt your touch and saw the way you looked at me and I asked you why you were doing that. It felt forbidden, and yet so natural at the same time. I don’t remember your reply. I don’t remember what happened next. It all just fades away. It’s difficult to grasp, to keep it in my mind. Keep you in my mind. A fragile, fading image.
It was nice to have you back.


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