I woke up sweating from a nightmare in the morning. One where dream and reality get each other confused and tug at corners and images until one of them surrenders and fades, yet stays close on track, keeps watch, so it could pounce back again at any given moment.
I turned around to find his chest and that place. You know that place, the safest one in the world, with your ear on his throat when he talks and the vibrations of his voice lullaby you back to harbor. Because there’s no sound more winsome, no steadier pulse and no smell more secure.
But the sheets next to me were cold and I didn’t even need to close my eyes again to cave back into the terror.
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2 comments:
you've an interesting blogging style. it's very... unpredictable.
very nice to read again, though.
thank you x
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