I spoke to you in my dream last night.

You were there.
Leaning against a wall in the place we always go.

You said things were better.
You said you didn’t care.

Your friends called me a liar.
And even though, we hadn’t spoken for weeks, you looked at me and chuckled.

Wouldn’t it be great if we could stop all of this.
Wouldn’t it be nice to have life like in dreams.
Wouldn’t it be fine to finally speak to one another.

Wouldn’t it be best to stop all this hurting.