I still order your favorite coffee when my fingers are blue,
And I still recommend your favorite movie to people who are lonely on a Friday night.
But I don't dream about you anymore.
My days are still sprinkled with tiny pieces of you and all the memories we won't make.
But my nights are mine again.
I think of you often, but I never see your face in my dreams, and that feels like healing.
Related Subjects
Poetry