Sunshine Dreams

The silence is oppressive. It bears down on my brain and my muscles, and all I want is rest. In sleep, I am still with you. Your long body is a warm blanket surrounding me with security. I feel a few fine hairs tickle my cheek with every outgoing breath from your lips. In sleep, it's not over. We share moments through infinity, forever sealed to that second of time like a Polaroid of everything I've ever wanted. In my dreams, the sun still shines on corners of my mind that haven't rotted with the termites of time, eating away at every solid support. Rotten words and wasted wishes wash away with renewing spring rains, cleansing every crevice of the nasty bits it harbors.

But I can't sleep. My thoughts torture me, replaying the reels of what went wrongs endlessly. The crack within myself of the moment my heart broke. The splicing of my life as it once was, and the ever After. That horrible loneliness of the blank screen once the film's run out, just waiting and waiting and waiting.