I try for hours to get up the nerve to kiss you, and once I finally have it, youāre dead in the bed next to me, coins on your eyelids and I can hear my mother weeping as she repeats and repeats and repeats and repeats, āWhy will no one help my son?ā
Whenever I have nightmares they seem to cycle around the same concept. My mother is often crying. A lot of the time, so am I. Iāve awakened from these terrors more times than I can count with my cheeks and pillowcase soaked, and a headache that lasts through the day. This time, though, youāre new.
Youāre new in the waking world, too, of course. It feels like itās been eons since I met you, since I first learned of your existence and decided Iāll never be the same. Youāve reached into the darkest depths of my psyche with your beautiful hands and managed to extricate the most withered and odious facets that make up the person I am today, the person laying in the bed next to you as you sleep on your side with your arm slung over my waist. And youāve done it in no time flat.
I think youāre a miracle worker, you see, because not one other being on this earth has managed to so quickly delve into my secrets, or to come out still wanting me around. Itās not that youāre unscathed, but that youāre unshaken, and when you tell me that Iām beautiful, I canāt possibly help but agree. When you kiss every inch of my body, when your hands move over my skin, when your eyes lock onto mine and your breath becomes my breath and our heartbeats sync, I canāt possibly help but agree.
And I know, I know, Iām no fool- there are parts of you, too, which I have yet to uncover. I catch a glimpse of them when I say certain things, touch you certain ways. Theyāre buried deep and youāre too proud to let them out. But please know that for as much as I am forgetful and impulsive and foolhardy and proud, I have the utmost patience for you, for you, and Iāll prove it to you a thousand times over.
But for now, my love, letās dream.