Wet Pillow

Someone once asked me if it was worth risking a smooth-sailing friendship for a deeper one. I was once convinced; my conscience isn't as clear as I would like to think it is. Moreover, the friendship was in fact far from smooth-sailing. There were bumps and holes along the journey. On a scale, it was lopsided. In a word, it's just a dream. Perhaps some things should've been left as dreams. Most of my life has been a dream anyway; there wouldn't be any difference between that and keeping you as a dream. Dreams are after all illusive; catching it would be like grasping the air with your hands. I can't feel the warmth on your face or the embrace of your heart. Your voice deafens me; your silence berates. You have always been what I thought you to be: a dream. My loneliness is therefore complete.