I like when I dream of you...

 I like when I dream of you and I get to actually see your face and talk to you, even if it's just a sentence. You heard me this time, you were there for me, you were mine, in a beautiful tender caring way. You were helping me. You didn't run away. You weren't far or occult. You were with me near. Driving the car we were all in. You said you had no issue with me and I could come along. That was nice of you. I miss you. You know, deep inside, that I truly love you, right? And it's not just a sickness, or a curse, a kind of damnation, a vice, that was bestowed upon me. You were always truly important to me just the way you were. And I loved you and I think I will always love you in your most vulnerable and truthful parts. You're not entirely alone. Our loving tenderness persists just as in the streaks of pinkinsh clouds across the blue day's end sky I saw now glancing on the window while writing you this. I love you truly, I hope one day you remember it fondly and that it will bring you warmth.