If I can bring myself to do it, I’ll ask you out of my dreams today. You are in every other thought, every word I write, the wrong motive for too many things I do. And because you’re here in my nights where you don’t belong, now I know you’re the selfish one.
My phone and my cyberspace wasn’t enough? Matching you martini for beer on nights I should have long been home in sweats didn’t satisfy you like it should’ve. Don’t forget my compromise for your concerts and the time you held me far too long. You forgot too soon how my youth fit with a click into your adventurous arms.
Even parenting our gorilla cub in the African preserve doesn’t sleep you comfy in the dark while the fish blink wide-eyed from the tank near your bed. I tucked them in and fed them that night I did your dishes and you played your guitar for me. Still, you salivate for more and squeeze in my window to manifest yourself in my dream of me and you and of everything we aren’t.
I have too much of what I shouldn’t have in you. I can’t have you in my dreams, too. Save everything I dreamed for your sleeplessness, and I’ll be your refuge like I was when you came into my night, uninvited. And when you see me in the morning, don’t recognize me, because we haven’t just been together. I only gave myself to you in your dreams.