(Where has my heart gone
An uneven trade for the real world)
I never managed to forget that there might have been an option to this somewhere, long ago.
Tonight, and the night before, too, I dreamt of a life free from what I now have, without you in my bed. I woke up on your arm, and my neck was sore, from resting on the hard bones of your body. It still hurts.
In my blurry memory there is a familiar face and a voice singing lullabies for the parts of me that were helplessly lost in you, drowned in the undying love for me that you keep declaring to everyone you meet.
The house we live together in is designed and furnished by famous people, because we are heroes. It's all very pretty, I told them when they asked me what I thought about what they had done to our home. I suppose one could say that it will suffice for now. The walls are clean; the only personal decoration is a dream catcher that is said to be from your dead family. That's right: I'm the only family you have now. At the moment.
We have a garden too. Watching the flowers grow from day to day is one the few things I enjoy. I have forget-me-nots, like the ones I put on someone's grave on Valentine's Day, when all other flowers were sold out in every shop I knew of then. And when my roses wither they go from red to brown and remind me of a person that I used to love before you stepped into the picture and claimed me.
When I'm not in the garden I sometimes bake and make food for you, so you'll have something to eat when you get home from work, and then we have dinner together and I have to talk to you and look at you and smile.
Even if I prefer solitude before any kind of closeness to you, I tend to feel a bit lonely when you're away. And I am alone, if you go on secret missions, I'm stuck with only myself and a longing for a distant past.
But I will not be left all by myself for so much longer. There will be a third person keeping me company.
There's a baby, now, that is yours and mine. I will take care of it so good, and sing to it, and tell it about how mommy met daddy and they were always happy together, but not happy enough before baby entered our life to make it even more perfect. And I could never mention how mommy is ripped apart inside, or how bad it hurts when daddy roughly pushes her to the wall, and maybe throws an expensive lamp at her, just because he will for all time to come hate her out of jealousy for something they both wanted, and that disappeared right before their eyes one day. My baby will not have nightmares of a weapon capable of destroying too many people's lives, and the scream that followed after it had been discharged.
Rushing to the motionless body I cried more than I had ever done before, the way that I would only cry for her.
She never loved you, I'm sure, how could she have? I know that must have been hard for you to accept, so by taking what was most precious to her you killed her long before the gun did. You stole me, and although I did not resist, it was not of my own will, because you kept the truth from me.
I was stupid and innocent, to believe you when you told me there that were no other options.
It wasn't until later that her sad expression when you kissed me, started to make sense in my by then disappointed mind.
I only wanted to do what was right, and never did I expect to be deceived by the person lying so close to me, in our shared bed.
The only part of me that is still true is left forever lingering in a burning memory of her believing in me when no one else did, despite everything, her arms protecting me from those who wanted to hurt me, and a loving smile forever.