Perhaps years later,
we would meet again at an airport
terminal.
Your perfect girlfriend's with you.
The plane is waiting and
You're ready for boarding.
While me, I have nothing but my books of poetry.
Before heading to different corners of the world, I'd whisper into your ears, "Do you still dream about me?"
You would look at her,
Standing in the line and tell me
"No, I don't dream about you anymore. But then what about you?"
I'd smile a little. The sad smile that reminds you of sunsets looming in the
horizon on a beautiful day.
I'd look out through a glass facade and whisper,
"I don't dream about you any less."