“You can dream, but you can never go back the way you came.”
Jackson Browne, “You Love the Thunder”
The quiet hum of a ceiling fan pushes the air across you. The helpless to stare at you. My hands gently touch the porcelain flesh that makes your curves. You lay there staring back at me. The gentle eyes are much more serious. The fire within shines in the dim room.
Time has stopped fit me. The waiting. The longing to get here with you. The contact of our bodies. The sweat bonding us like glue. I want to stay here forever. Your heart beat is racing. The sound of your breath drives me crazy.
Like a flash. It’s gone. A sound prierces you. Fading pieces crumble to morning light. I awake and you’re gone. Someone else has taken your place.