Here I sit, willing with my entire being that you do not dream of me.
I wish you not to be tortured with false beliefs of waking with me in your arms.
I wish you not to awake with a false sense of my presence.
I will you to have sweet dreams, but none of me.
None of me, please, cariƱo, none of me.
But as I type these words, I know you will deny them.
You will tell you me you like these dreams
You will tell me it’s alright.
But I don’t believe you.
I never felt so much pain when I dreamt you were lying beside me, holding me.
I never felt so much pain when I woke and groped around for you, only to find your absence.
If you do not feel the same way, I salute you, with the utmost respect.
I salute your strength, your will.
I am weaker in these ways of the heart, I really am.
I wear many masks.
I need no one.
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