coffeelove

Sometimes I dream of you. It's never nice dreams. It's always about me being hurt by someone and then running to you.
And you know what I'm coming for. I couldn't stop crying but you yanked my head back and told me to stop.
Dressing in your bathroom. Pulling on my panties, my bra, jeans, buttoning them, you blocking the door and giving me that look.
Saying all the right things that are horribly wrong.
And those feelings. Ashamed, embarrassed, guilty.
I hate that dream.
Perhaps mostly because I can't run to anyone.