I keep dreaming about him and it pisses me off.
Okay, it doesn't piss me off, but it does make for some melancholy mornings when the haze of what once was is still fresh on my mind. Again. Over and over and -- and I thought this was over? I thought he and I were over, which I am 1,000% sure we are, but not according to my subconscious mind. And so yes, it does piss me off because I want the dead to stay buried. I don't want to be visited by zombies every time I hit the pillow. Let me be the one who does the feasting; I'm bored of starving.
But in the early morning light I remember the way he laid his head in my lap while we played with the dying grass in the park. We said the insects were neon for some reason and we created canyons out of leaves. How could I have known in that moment that we were drowning?