another nightmare, another dream.
all the words she's too
ashamed to say aloud,
all the scenarios she's afraid
will happen a little too soon.
all the pictures you haven't burnt,
and all the thoughts,
the fears,
the flaws coming to life,
happening right before her very eyes
but only in dreams of white dresses
and nightmares of
you holding another
and they always revolve around
you and the one before,
where it's always
the same sickening fear,
the same sickening flaw,
of never being good enough,
or never knowing what to say,
and wondering,
always wondering,
if she was as beautiful
as the girl she made up in her head
if you did more with her,
if she does more for you,
if it was better back then,
than it will ever be right now
if you loved her (still)
just as she love(s) you now.
