By Kimberly L.
Isn’t it strange how you can recognize someone in a dream you’ve never seen before?
Like
“I know you.”
“You carry a piece of me, but I can’t quite explain how.”
And in that dream?
I was kneeling.
Kneeling.
In front of him like I worshipped the ground he walked on.
And the wildest part?
He looked at me like he accepted it.
Like he knew that version of me.
Like he’d been waiting for her to come undone at his feet.
And me?
On my knees for a man?
Hell no.
But in that dream?