Broken Heart Disease

Maybe it would be just be easier if he were dead, because then I might stop entertaining the idea that I could see him again. Maybe the dreams would stop. Maybe I wouldn't fantasize that he is thinking about me, even though he just married someone else.

In the dreams, we are never a couple. The dreams are always about my trying to get to him, to find him. And once I get close enough, he walks away. He's always close, but never close enough to be mine. She was actually in the last dream I had. They were together on a bus and I called out his name. Either he couldn't hear me, or he just pretended he couldn't, because he descended the stairs of the bus without even turning his head to acknowledge me. I think about our sex in my waking hours, but in dreamland, it's always about the rejection. I think about our kisses, and how I am sure God made our mouths so they would fit together like two puzzle pieces, and no one else's mouth would fit his but mine.

I know so much of this is from my idle mind. It's so much easier to think about him than to fall in love again.  He is a tough act to follow and it's just too much effort to look.