I lay, looking at the all too familiar ceiling. Her face trickles into my mind. Her voice entrances me, making me numb from head to toe.
I close my eyes and imagine her next to me. Sleeping. Her body heat seeping into me. Her smell dancing around me. The way she would breathe and move would be graceful and perfect.
Her hand would be in mine, helping the dreamland grow near.
My eyes open to the sudden realization that I'll never have her. I continue to think, though, of her movements. Of her way of talking to me. How in real life, she is an angel.
My eyes drift closed again, and I see her. She holds my hand and walks with me. Sand squeezes its way through my toes the same way my love for her flows through my body, reaching for every place to go.
Her smile lights up the world, and then she looks at our hands. Mine is the color of a cloud. White and soft. Hers dark like smooth chocolate. Brown and smooth. I want to hold her in my arms, but she squeezes through. Rain falls to my now empty hand, where her love once was.
She disappears into the distance, the rain fogging up the world around me.
I open my eyes and the room is still dark. My face is cold and my hand is empty. Where I want her is where she will never be.
