Even if the world is real,
No two people share a world,
Not even mutely,
Much less in the retelling,
However much overlap
Tricks us into thinking that
Lives are fully shared.
My dark-haired lady in dreams
Is back to haunt me
After twenty years away.
The feel of her arms and back,
The exactness of her skin
Touch me in a way
No one should touch me today.
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