I dreamt about you again last night.
One of those strange visions that felt like a memory
You and I were in a museum,
looking at the bones of history
and stumbling through the passages of silence.
I had my coat tucked under my arms; your hand was in your pocket.
I lingered at the placard,
hesitating to move on
hoping that you might brush my sleeve as you passed.
When I looked up you were gone
and I tiptoed through the glass display cases
searching for you.
Room through room I chased you.
Your presence wafted behind
like the scent of fresh rain
in the arid day.
But all I found were the faces of strangers
and monsters’ remains.
I discovered you in the gift shop,
amongst the toys and kitsch.
You’d stumbled upon an old friend
who was going to take you away from me.
I was jealous.
I always was.
But all I could do was stand there looking stupid,
and watch you walk away.
As you stepped out into the daylight
the glass doors caught your shape.
I thought I saw you holding something in your hands…
and I watched another moment of chance fade away.
feeling unsettled and spent.
Your ghost still haunting my conscious thoughts.
Like always, it seems:
with the memory of you.