a sort of madness

my core is a wet
soggy
mess
a newspaper forgotten
in the rain
as
dreams bring me echoes
of a time when i could have
clung
to him
as if he were my port
in the storm
a time when i was still
capable
of adoration
when this man
could invoke
a sort of madness in me
that felt
so
so fucking
good.

isn’t it a mindfuck that dreams can do this? pull you back in time to a different reality that you hoped would never end? and yet it did
so you wake up with such a heavy sad heart….
dreams of dusty…but it could also be dreams of the one before him who had my heart. just two men really who can claim that “prize” despite my having been with
so many more than just two….
so i wonder…will i ever feel that sort of madness again?
& if i don’t…is that a bad thing…or a good one?

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