I feel him..he is in my head, calling me, I see him as his lips descend on mine, we move in perfect synchronisation. Though his face is always hidden from me, I know his body, every angle, every muscle. His voice is a rich melody as he hugs me from behind, his lips at my ear,whispering sweet nothings. I kiss him with a passion I find foreign to me but the moment never lasts. He drifts away,leaving me breathless and waiting.
I wake up to the sound of the rain outside my window, the dream is still on my mind. I can still feel him on my lips and the Rush is maddening. He is my drug and I am an addict.
Is it possible to fall hard for a dream? As I ponder about whether its crazy, I realise that he is always on my mind, like the symphony that tugs on the heartstrings. I desperately want to see his face, the pain I feel when he remains in the shadows, my personal temptation that haunts me endlessly.
It seems that there is a mist that makes him hide from me. Restless and unable to focus, I force myself out of bed and get the empty canvas and the dark shading pencils. As I attempt to bring him alive on paper,I remember his lips on mine. I draw his face hoping each day that maybe my pictures will make him come alive. Its the only way to remind myself that he is my dream reality.
I live in a world where the night sky meets the lush marshes. My world is called Endless and in the dark of the night I hear the sounds of the rustling leaves,the sound of the water as it flows relentlessly. A cold wind blows flicking out the candles but I welcome the dark. It soothes me in ways the Light never could.
I feel the air upon my skin, tantalising me,beckoning me to him.
His touch is cold I'm sure of it.
