sad dreams die sweet

by Gela


It was just a feeling. Something I couldn’t grasp.

And it cried.

It was my phone. It was my him.

It was a hello and it’s me and how are you doing.

And then, it clicked. It ended. And it cried. This time it was me.

This time it was me.

This was the one stupid phone call I waited for.                                                                               This one stupid phone call that ended as soon as it started.

I just fought with myself during the whole time.                                                                           Kept my tears in check, forcing myself to get it together.

No crying. That’s losing. Do not cry for him.

I wanted to show you that I’m okay. No, that I’m more than okay.

I actually was doing great– even better without you.                                                                     My last fucking pride I was planned on keeping.

My dignity needed its proud place on top.

Because that was all I needed, right…?

What I needed to know was that you did miss me. That you did think of me.

That I wasn’t someone who just vanished.

If you walked by our favorite coffee shop,                                                                                                 I hope you would instinctively look behind you and ask, “The usual?”                                     and I would just answer with a nod,                                                                                                   while warming my hands in your front coat pockets, hugging you from behind.

I was just replaced by a breathless air, not behind you not beside you.

Not there not anywhere. Choking you with dried out tears.

I hope the occasional whiff of the floral scents by Issey Miyake, to you, was me.                And as you smiled and you would turn around and reached out your arms to me,

but it just wasn’t me.

I wish I was a breeze of wind, brushing against your skin,                                                             giving you the familiar touch of warmth from here and there.

From time to time.

I wish I am that person to you. That I was that person to you. And I became that person to you.

I would like to think that way. That’s all I needed anyway.

Maybe it wasn’t a phone call I waited for.                                                                                                It was closure.                                                                                                                                                    I needed to know that I meant something more than just something.

That we meant something more than it really was.                                                                               That’s all I wanted to know.

I waited for you so that you could wait for me.

Maybe my phone will ring again. Maybe it won’t be you.

Maybe you will call me one last time. Maybe in ten, twenty years.

I just wish I can tell you the things I couldn’t say today.

That you were the one.

That you were the only one who understood my instability.

And embraced my flaws.

You were the one that accepted me for me through my selfish ways.

You loved me without a second thought and I, you, without a nervous doubt.

I know you will be in loving arms, it just wouldn’t be me.

I know you will be in love with all that you are are,                                                                               I just won’t be there to see.

I know you will be happy, it just wouldn’g be “we.”

But that is okay.


I just wanted to tell you that I once loved you more than anything.

That I pictured us grow old together laughing at each other and you would say, “All these years..” and I would say, “We made it.”

But that it was okay that we didn’t.

It was just a sad dream that died sweet.

Daily prompt Dream by Daily Post