I just woke up with a start. I'd been in the middle of a dream trying desperately to cling onto it, not wanting to let go. I wanted to see how it all played out. To look at your face once more. But the loud trickle of the rain pouring onto my windows was too enticing for me to resist. I wanted to listen to it, so my ears sprang open and abruptly ended my little escape from reality.
I know that I am a secret still. I know that you have never mentioned me to anyone, so you are alone there with all of your thoughts of me. I wonder how difficult it has been for you to be living with all of this? I wonder if the guilt hangs over you, like one of those leaded bibs you have to wear when you get an xray. I bet that's how you feel.
I hate that I still think of you. That I have this itch to say hello. That my mind wanders into these ideas of who I thought you were and who I thought we could be. Like this broken record that I can't quite get the courage to nudge to make it stop skipping, over and over again.
Have you really forgotten me now? Have you let me go? I hope that you have for both of our sakes, now and forever. I'll always be your secret, and you will only live on in my dreams. Maybe you were never more than a dream to begin with?
