Sometimes I miss her but then I remember she doesn’t exist anymore, only a shell of the perfect girl I used to know.
Whenever I Dream of Her
Whenever I dream of her
I wake with repugnance
for her
and myself
Her allure has long since faded
like a soiled lottery ticket
I’m disappointed
She died years ago
but still manages to meander
malicious and smiling through a path so worn
alley cats rather not follow
Whenever I dream of her
I wake knowing I’ll dream again
unable to recreate her pretty face
it’s always pitiful
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