dream boy.

***

i want to wake and still be with him.

he finds me no matter which dream room i pick. beautiful him. his face draws so close to mine that i can smell his vanilla breath. a tingly feeling reminiscent of girly, wistful love runs through every centimeter of me as he kisses my back and it tickles.

sometimes, when he sees me it’s after another day of heart break by another monster and he doesn’t say anything. he smoothes away the tangles in my hair and he lets me cry until i can’t. then, he lifts up my head from his chest and tells me he’s in love with me. he says it over and over again and my brown cheeks flush with joy.

he doesn’t talk about his day life but often when i see him his mocha skin has breaks in it like he’s been beaten. i wipe his knuckles clean with alcohol and kisses. he rests his head against my stomach, listening to its rumbling and my soft singing to him, and i feel the anger slowly leave his body.

sometimes, we just sit, too numb to engage, our backs leaning against each other. we read or listen to music or play separate hand held video games. the silence slowly dissipates with his laughter. his bright, eruptions of laughter at my silly, random jokes feel like home. he clutches my face and kisses me. pieces of his laughter drift through my lips and recess in the vacancies in my heart. i feel what happiness must feel like.

we try to stay together, to stay asleep, but fighting to stay asleep becomes as painful as fighting to stay awake does when you’re tired. we never get to say good bye; we wake up alone.

—Lissa E.

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