and I wanted to

I dreamt of her two nights in a row.
The first night, I saw her leaving a train and our eyes met
– I forgot to look away –
and her smile melted all the tightness in my chest
into warmth.
She hugged me and sparkled so brightly that I thought I’d go blind
– and I wanted to.
She wore a dress so white that I wasn’t aware that
shade existed, it flowed with its own wind and I was
too happy to realize the cliche.
The second night, I went on daring adventures and laughed,
mocked who I used to be
skipped backwards, reminiscent of when I teetered near a cliff
just to see her panic.
I walked past her, the second night,
I tried my best to look straight ahead and pretend she wasn’t there
– my heart squeezed and whispered to me
don’t do this again –
and she looked at me as if to say
– but why not? –
and I looked at her sheepishly and she smiled again. And
again
again
my heart swelled and we hugged and I touched her belly and whispered
good tidings, sending all my heart beats into that new life.

I don’t want to dream of her a third time.