I lost you twice.

I met you twice, both in my dream, as painful as it seemed. I saw you leaving without looking back. I saw you walking away and never coming back. I saw you sitting on the edge of my bed. I saw you standing at the door. I saw you … I swear I did.

I kissed you twice, both in my dream, as real as it felt. I kissed you on the bed, with the door open, lights off, two at noon. I kissed you in the bathroom, breathless, with the tap on and soaked pants.

“Call me by your name, and I'll call you by mine,”

And there I go … wholly naked with both pride
and ego clothed off, soaked in shame and impulse, all bruised with fears and regrets.

I missed you twice, then and now, but I guess it is much harder this time. At this moment, and maybe, at some time in the future, too, if I happen to still be alive.

I lost you twice, then and now, but I guess forever applies for this one. This life. I lose you in this life, and maybe, in another one, too, if there is even any.