Dreams and Portents

Last night I dreamt of you again. You vanished for a while. But now you are back in my dreams. Which doesn't make sense. Things have changed. Things are far different from a year ago today. Yet in some weird way, things are exactly the same. 

I don't know I'm the bad guy.
It's just a good guess.
Because last year you were getting over another bad guy. 

I find myself wondering what degree things might have been exaggerated. I did read the medical report. I did see the trauma in and on you. 
But now? Am I the bad guy? Probably.
Probably, because I realize I know you much better than either of us thought.

I still have those photos I foolishly printed before we stopped talking all together. The photos I printed just before we stopped seeing each other in person.

Whatever dreams I have, if ever you should call me again, I don't think I could stand it.

I've done so well about not wondering; I stopped looking for omens, I stopped sifting through the back alley blog posts to see what you think. I haven't looked at all. Not since Mid-December. 

I've maintained strictest control when it comes to wondering about the people in my past who can still hurt me, even after this much time.

I'm doing better. I know I am. But I still have those days, when I'm just limping along.