I still see you in my dreams. Us. Always we are there and we are laughing like we used to.  Endlessly. Raucously.  Like we always did.  We were so impractical, you and I.  And yet, I can't help wishing you were here now.  Because when you were with me nothing was serious and no problem was so great we couldn't chase it with laughter.  And in the dark of the evening, in your arms, everything else faded. 

But we were so god damn impractical, you and I.  

You drank too much and slept with too many.  I too intolerant of even one mistake.

It's never in my conscious moments that we're together again, but always in my dreams.  Because even though I wouldn't want you now--I'll be clear, I would never want you again--I miss so, so desperately the wild, red-tinted edges the world took on when I was with you.  Every touch, every joke, every fleeting moment when your eyes met mine was more exhilarating than every moment since.

And isn't our insanity absolutely transparent?  Isn't this madness I am preaching?  I willingly left, plodding so quickly forward some of what we were is gray and blurry in my mind.  I went on and forgot and grew up.  But the heart does not so quickly forget.  It relives you and I so often.  I cannot escape you nor doubt I truly will.  I will replay us--God that we had never ended--until the end of my days.

Tortured by the impracticality of us.  And yet, ceaselessly basking in the pleasure of having lived even a solitary second by your side.  Thank god for those precious, fleeting moments.