i always seem to dream of you on full moons.
not daydreams, actual sleep induced dreaming.
and it's odd because i don't think of you as often as i used to. and the dreams are always so simple. it's perfect.
i was a bit older. you were the same.
i had a house of my own, dimly lit and all.
it was the evening or early morning, not sure which.
i walked into the kitchen and saw a counter piled with your things that you had forgotten or lost.
there were piles of letters in yellow envelopes. but they were all organized..which i found odd of you. but i guess they must've been things you held really dear.
one of the envelopes was stuffed with orange lighters. no note or anything. just lighters. i remember the name on the package, she was a close friend of yours. i suppose it was some sort of inside joke, and smiled crookedly.
there were tons of others all tucked neatly inside clear packages so that they wouldn't get damaged. i didn't look at them. or even read the names on the envelopes. i wouldn't have been jealous, per-say, i'm just not that type typically. and i would say it was to honor your privacy, and though it was in part that--i think i just didn't want to be envious of those relationships. and how wonderful they were.
i found another lighter, and when stroked the flame would alter colors. i sat down on the kitchen floor and just watched it for a couple of minutes. thinking. flicking it on and off.
stood up and put it back, then walked down the hallway, head down, arms tucked across my stomach. watching my feet. not sad. just thinking.
i passed the guest bedroom and tilted my head up because the light was on. you were laying on the bed with red sheets. black dress. hair up. reading.
it was most likely morning, because my hair (much longer) was a mess and make-up a bit smeared and only sporting a large t-shirt. seemed like you had been up all night, though perfectly content.
you smiled and just said "hey," like you've always lived there.
so i just assumed you were moving in. or staying for a while.
i liked the feeling of you being there. because we kept our distance. but we always knew the other was there. it was easy for us to live in solitude, and at the same time be together. we were never clingy, like the others. two ghosts.
i told you "i found some of your things," leaning on the door frame, looking at the ceiling.
you got up quickly and sat your feet in knitted socks on the hardwood floors.
you said "fuckin' yes! remeber how i said i couldn't find any of my clothes after moving?"
i said "yeah, but it's just letters and such."
you still smiled and i pointed to were they were. "in the kitchen," i said.
you left, and i sat on the bed. and remembered i need to clean the cat litter.