i should tell you

that i almost always dream of people i don’t know

whose features I could never describe,

and yet who, in the moment, are not strangers to me

i should tell you

that when i was in the seventh grade

i once dreamed about a man named Brooke

to whom i was engaged

i should tell you

that i remember only two things about him:

he picked me up effortlessly

and with him, i was happy

i should tell you

that i’d forgotten i’d ever invented—no,

imagined—no, predicted him

til he robbed you of a proper first impression

i should tell you

that though this should be impossible,

you and he remind me of one another

more and more every single day

i should tell you

that this terrifies me more than

the exorcist and the shining combined,

and that probably means i should tell you