Almost There

Those terrible dreams about you
have stopped—miraculously—since I
started writing more about you.
Funny to think of it like that, but
it’s the honest truth.

It’s better this way, I think. I hope
when there is nothing more to
write about you,
when this season is separate
and distant-seeming,
the spark I have now isn’t lost
or anything.

We do cycle in season
like that, anyways.
Think what you’d like,
but I’m convinced of it.
Isn’t that what’s so beautiful about life?



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