I still dream of you. Of us. Of that little flat in Spain with dark tiled floors and a terrace where we can enjoy tea and some of that incredible paella. Of taking boat rides on the sea breathing in the salty, fresh air whilst the midday sun greets our skin with its touch. Of riding bikes through the city gazing and pointing at our favorite architectural designs. Of laying on the wooden dock by the pond playing the question game with each other. Of flying on the airplane to Italy and having your cheek rest on my shoulder while your nose makes those little squeaky, breathing noises that I love. Of waking up in the early mornings with you to watch the sun rise and illuminate our resting faces. Of walking to the cafe with you to work on our business venture. Of watching films with you at that little shitty theater around the corner with the red and brown carpet and bright yellow seats. Of going to the art museum and staring at modern art and then discussing what the hell that term even means. Of our road trip adventures where we stop at gas stations and do our best to discover if there is such a thing as healthy gas station food. Of giving you a neck massage while we listen to our favorite records. Of growing old together and imagining if we’ll be the mean old people on the block that angrily gaze at all of the kids from our front porch as they walk by on their way to school.

I still dream of you. Of finding you again one day. Of having the timing actually work out in our favor for once. Of falling in love with you without questioning it. Of being someone you can fall in love with without questioning it. Of being someone that understands that it’s okay to have bad days. Of supporting you through all of the things we may endure.

I still dream of you. Of us. Of being worthy of you.
I still dream of you. Of us. Of this even being real.

I still dream. Of us. Usually when I’m awake.

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