I sleep on couches,
my body curled against the dog.
I am content here.
Dreams have never made sense to me.
I’ve had recurring ones,
ones that hurt the first time
but then replayed to the point where I didn’t want to regain consciousness-
couldn’t bear to lose safe fear.
I once had a dream where the girl I loved
(who had a boyfriend)
was decapitated.
He couldn’t accept her death.
Fists pounding.
I didn’t wake up.
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