You don’t talk to me in my dreams anymore

I know it would be presumptious of me to think I would ever hear from you again 
We said goodbyes walked away and that was the end
didn't think no good could come from old lovers being friends 

You knew me better than I knew myself 
And I knew you so you kind of stayed on my shelf
And spoke to me when I needed to know what I felt

I know what you are thinking but I’m not completely crazy
I not supersticious I know memory can be hazy
But it sounds like you and speaks things that really effect me 

Like more than one time on my way out the door
I hear you say oye loco look what you left on the floor
Turning I expect to see you I’m going on my knees
You are nowhere around but on the floor are my keys...

But the nicest things you say when I really need
Like You told me so, I’m sorry, being firm but sweet
And I laugh smile and resigned pull over the sheets...

I didn’t notice at first when you stopped your talks
But for a dream I saw you looking sardonic and sulk
I apologized for what I did and listened  on long walks

Which comes to why I’m writing this letter out of the blue
I don’t know how many years but it has been quite a few
Just hoping you could fix something I’m trying to make straight--

Why don’t You talk to me anymore
in my head
In my dreams
Anymore?