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Realizing the reality was not the dream foretold |
| I could kick myself. I should of known Too good to be true When i dreamt of you Your hands upon Upon the flesh Of my chest. The mingling of breath With entangled limbs. The heat rising Erasing the cold Deep set in my soul. I could kick myself When i dreamt of you. The wetness leaking Without control With the sound of your words Reaching through the phone. An ache so deep Its visceral and to the bone. No salve for the pain When you took Your words away. I should have known You were too good To be true |