Late last night, and into the wee hours of the morning, as rain soaked the earth once more, tears soaked my pillow and my sleep-filled eyes.
I had a dream that I loved someone. Dearly loved him. We were happy. I believed he truly loved me as well. And he did... or so I thought until a friend swept in. He fled his heart (and mine) for hers. I was left picking up pieces of my broken heart and our broken life. Vanishing. When I awoke, I was so heartbroken, so convinced that what I had dreamed was reality, that I cried.
Perhaps there is a small part of me that fears my love life will resemble my mother's and it was only in that safe place, the foggy places of our sub-conscious, that my heart decided to dwell upon it.
How lovely. How lovely indeed...
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