Freud would say I must want to be with you;
An inner desire that I can’t mention.
These dreams make that need become something true
A relief of this sexual tension.
Jung would say that you are my opposite.
The dreams show part of me that is missing.
That explains the sex. I won’t oppose it.
But it fails, still, to explain the kissing.
The sad truth is that you just disgust me.
And love and hate are a blurred line, it seems
Asleep confused, but awake not, trust me.
And I wish you would get out of my dreams.
Until you do, more poems like this are in store
Or until I can admit there is more
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