are you happy living my dream?


he was in my thoughts yesterday.
i remembered his voice, the color
of his eyes, that sweet, smooth
spot at the top of his cheek. i
went walking with him again through
stores, dreamt once more of the
rest of our lives. we sped down
hot streets, made love on my bed
with the window open, breathing
in the night and him.

if i could get past the pain,
beyond the rage that still burns
inside of me, i'd tell you to
take good care of him, tell you
to hold him tightly once in a
while for me. i'd ask you to
kiss him, softly, while
he sleeps.

if i could stop hating you long enough,
i'd ask if you thought those times when
his eyes turn sad and he sighs deeply,
if he was thinking of me. if he was
remembering the sound of my voice, if
he was remembering how we made love on
my bed, if he felt the soft spring
air on his naked back.

but i think, if i could get past the
pain, if i could move beyond the rage,
if i could stop hating you, i think
i'd only ask you if you're happy living
my dream.


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