I dreamed of you. It has been a while since my mind has conjured anything of your existence. But last night, I found myself staring at your hazel brown eyes, painfully aware that they have not changed and are still my favorite cup of coffee in this lifetime. I found myself looking at your smile, that wide, arrogant lift around the corners of your mouth, bringing a tidal wave of memories upon the shores of my heart.
It was yet another dream about you, another fantasy hidden beneath the depths of my secrets, but again it felt so real that I could just reach out and feel the vibrations of your laugh in your chest. It aches, the closed wound reopens, and I found myself falling again, a tower that topples over and over.
Universe, if you are trying to tell me something, you are awful at giving signals. These warning signs you give me are threats to the process of letting go. They cling to me, like vines of hope, crushing, trembling, shaking, scared, a bruising grip on my wrist, a dead weight upon my fingers. These warning signs are dangerous, full of treachery and deceit, bearing the responsibility of comprehension to my person. They confuse me as much as they hurt me. I hate your cosmic coincidences.
Your fantasies revolving around only one person. It has been seven years, stop bringing him back on my periphery. My heart could only take so much until it caves again.