It's all in Your Head
By: hands-of-blue
Maybe it's a dance of the moonlight, or maybe it's my mental firefight, but I swear she's in my room tonight.
I don't know how she came to be here.
But I sure as hell don't want her to leave.
She looked so good that I couldn't resist anymore. I think she planned for that to happen.
Long, golden brown hair like waves of honey spilled around my pillow. Soft eyes, still fluttering with drowsiness, leaked out the luscious hue of red roses guarded by dark lashes. The smoothness of fair skin stretched out over perfectly curved limbs splayed across my blankets.
People don't look like that when they take a "nap."
She was setting me up.
And I fell right into her trap.
Pacing in front of the bedroom door for so long must have created a dent in the floor. So I finally went to her.
Switching the roles around can sometimes be fun and as I slowly traversed across my bed, I could tell she agreed.
Impossibly gentle. All this time my lips had been waiting to collide with her's and I never knew. Please don't let this be a dream.
But I fear it is. In the next few minutes all things dim and swirl as they do when I'm about to wake from a deep slumber.
As she bites my neck, the poison of reality floods in. As she lifts up my shirt, the hands of truth slip up my stomach. And realization hits me.
I'm alone.
She was never here.
It never happened.
It was all just a dream, just as I feared.
I can feel panic and sadness start to well up within my chest. I didn't want to open my eyes and know for sure.
But I had to, so I carefully brought my hand up in front of me. If she were here, as I saw her to be, I'll make contact.
But by the time my hand is almost completely out-stretched, I haven't felt a thing.
Only the sting of my stupidity to think that it was true.
And I let out a frustrated sigh.
Until she brings my hand back down and kisses my fingertips.