Literature
I Still Dream of You
Opening the door at night, slipping through the crack, slender, pale, and small, to lay beside me. Sitting side by side, pooling over a book until my voice falters as your arm coils around mine. Lounging on the couch, watching a mediocre film, slowly drifting into sleep, until your head rests upon my shoulder. Cooking in the kitchen, making an absolute mess of things, dancing to music that isn’t even playing. Late at night, looking from my desk, to find you in my bed, bare-breasted, blankets askew, smiling at me from across the room, wordlessly asking me to come to you. A single blink and you’re gone, it’s hard to tell if these are dreams anymore, or even memories, perhaps they’re just wishes now, hopes and desires that shall go unfulfilled.