i had dreamt the nostalgia of someone else’s life. and in it they were very strong on the inside but the scars on the outside were still healing and she would never yield as he remembered.
and this was why he came back and again because she would not stop, because she could not stop imagining him or giving him some reason for a life that was not his nor mine but i could remember her for it.
the way he wanted to bring things all to an end desperately she would dig her nails into his neck and i could laugh because the love was so big and the lies too small to notice the bleeding on each side of this memory.
until the lies became like love and she believing one for the other or was that the other way around?
i would like to have some version of it that was not sinister but there was something to be said for that and i stuttered myself out of place suddenly when she finally relented and he quietly remembers only this life as his own.