Explosions fired off in my heart like sparks, jumping around in excitement.

I could see your hair, perfectly whisked back, the texture, the color, the way it reminded me of those preppy football players you see in the movies…

I remember my hands being tussled in it, entangling themselves in the strands, feeling their way to the top of your neck, on the edge of fur and skin, my fingerprints embedding themselves into the moment.

In this dream, you wouldn’t come near enough for the snowball to build. In my dream, I watched you from afar.

Like a stranger in the night shadows, I hid behind whatever would protect me from the radiance of the moonlight and I watched over you, wondering, wishing, regretting…

In this dream you were just as you are, perfectly recreated to torture my senses.

You lived in a beautiful house you had built from the fire in your strong hands… those strong hands….

It was dark but for a light in the kitchen hanging from the ceiling. You were asleep, dreaming peacefully… how I wish you would dream of me.

Beside you where I used to have a place was a new model, someone picked off the shelf fresh, someone who hadn’t battled and scorned you like I had…

Her beautiful golden hair sprawled out across the pillows and into your side, your nose sat gently above it, never minding.

I remember you used to stop moments in their tracks and smell my hair as those strong hands came up from the sides of my ears, lifting me into your grasp and urging me to your lips….

But that was then..

My deepest feelings have floated through my fingers here...