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My Nightmare of You

Woke up from a nightmare, it was you in white pants and you looked at me like you still cared. There was a bandanna around your neck and you were the bandit of my heart. Now its been so long since we have even talked but I’m walking the ghost halls of my memory like you were yesterday. On the bed and you on my stomach, and the cat was still a kitten. I’m blending the palette of my past loves and present day themes, you’re just furniture in my life and I’m trying to move you out, I need new space for better chairs and couches. But you are smiling and I hear that voice, the one I lived with in that one bedroom apartment, I can’t even remember our number. You paid the bills and I practiced witchcraft, you smoked your cigarettes and I drank from black label bottles. We fell apart and I still tell people you went crazy, you say the same about me. No social media friendships. No cordial message exchange. We erased each other as best we could, but here I am again, those memories that sting, and I wish I could just bleach you out and start fresh, but I guess you’re still living in me somewhere, in a place that won’t die. I guess I just have to learn to deal with that, because I don’t love you and you don’t love me, and tea parties with spectre you are so surreal I think it must be a lucid dream of relationships that are no more, you aren’t the only one, that hipster from Brooklyn popped up the other night. I don’t know why you all are visiting me when I should be getting sleep, but it’s causing severe unease. Maybe it’s because I’m in love, really really, in love again. Maybe you’re just here to show me my past mistakes, so I know what not to do this time around. Well boys it’s been nice seeing you, we both fucked up pretty bad, said things I wish we hadn’t said, got mad when we shouldn’t have. Nostalgia’s overrated, I mean really weren’t we just kids? I know I was, I think I’m growing up now, finding out what means the most, what better way to show me how far I’ve come than by showing me where I’ve been, showing me these ghosts, you’ve always been good at explaining to me why I was always wrong. Good bye, good night, until we meet again in reverie, in eerie ethery, I’m leaving this behind, for something better, something I can try not to screw up this time.


About deadendemily

Emily lives in Austin, TX. She has a minor in chaos and a major in spray paint. She likes Vincent Price and ABBA. She enjoys being covered in fake blood and writing horror stories. Most of the time she just hopes that her cat is not plotting to murder her, her cat being a minion of Satan and all. They would never suspect the cat.

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