You used to warn me about the wolves.
The ones out there in the world that would eat up every last bit of me, if I let them.
They were predators with people faces, and I used to dream often that they were looming in the tree line, just waiting for one false step that would send me tumbling into their glittering jaws.
I wish we’d talked more about the wolves inside us,
The ones that have already gotten in.
The ones that prowl the shadows in our heads and settle families in caves within our hearts.
Maybe then we could have worked something out.
Maybe then, everything would have been okay.
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The Reoccurring Dream