I dreamt of you again last night—probably the second time this month, which is weird considering how long it’s been since we last spoke. I was at a buffet table struggling to get some soup when you approached to help. As my bowl was almost filled to the brim, you tipped it over and laughed. My eyes were fixed on the contents of my now-empty bowl that ran all over the table that I hardly noticed you walk away. It’s funny, but that’s exactly what happened between you and me. You filled me with hope before pulling the rug under me, and I am left struggling to get up and pretend like I knew all along how all of it was going to end.
It’s been a while since I last wrote about you, and for a moment there I thought I was done. But I guess I’ll always be writing about you, dreaming about you, until the next heartbreak comes along.
