I prayed to get over it.
But another version of you keeps arriving—
each one softer,
each one saying things you never said
but I always wished you would.

That version sends visions.
Of one more dream
I can’t quite hold onto—
it dissolves the second I wake,
like breath on glass.

To dream versions of you
is to love you whole
in a world that lets me,
just for a moment.

And when those visions fade—
when the countless lives I live with you
go blur,
go quiet,
go still—

maybe that’s when it’s time
to stop chasing sleep.
Maybe it’s time
to make a life
where you and I
can finally
be one.