They're always beautiful, full of color and feeling. We're always talking, holding hands and having whisper wars; because it takes two to do all those things. We're at the park and your fingers play with my hat, while mine play with your shirt. I wake up, next to you. You hold me while your breathing lulls me back to sleep.
But then I wake up. And these dreams, they always feel like I'm looking at you for the first time in months. They're inconsequential but they make me sad.
These dreams.
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