Dreams, and You

If dreams,
As they say,
Are meaningless,
Why do I
Feel so much weight
When I see your face
In my sleep?
When your arms,
Torso,
Legs,
And smile
Stretch across
My Dreams?

I do not like how
You linger into
The day following my illusions—
Moving from my brain
To my heart,
Squeezing me
With each beat.

What are dreams if not fragments of what was?

You are not
Always there—
No.
But when you are,
You are all that is there.

I do not like knowing
That the rest of my life
Will be plagued by thoughts
Of you.

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