i had a dream last night we

finally met.
And I couldn’t take my eyes off you.
You were brunette this time,
and I stood over you, watching you sleep,
catching every subtle movement,
every breath,
I wanted to hold onto, so tightly
as if somehow so fragile it could slip away.
I paced the room, watching you sleep,
glancing at you, then turning away smiling,
treasuring this moment,
that we were finally together.

My heart fluttered, warm, satisfied,
nervously excited, I think I laughed in my sleep,
a laugh that was caught in my throat.
I heard a voice whisper to me,
“Can you believe it? It’s her.”
The ring sparkled on your finger,
the ring I placed on your hand,
the night you said “Yes,” before I could ask.
We danced without any music and,
dressed in our finest clothes,
You were so spectacularly stunning
words betray how beautiful you were to me.
Brazen, glamorous, and cloaked in mystery.
Together we held hands in Central Park,
and ate at an elegant restaurant,
pretending to be people we weren’t,
just for fun.
We stood on top of the Empire State,
making out as the sun disappeared to the west
and the lights began to flicker below like a trillion candles
from the trillion people gathered in a trillion pews
in the biggest heavenly cathedral in existence
and we were on its ceiling,

just us.

I watched us stroll along the reflecting pool’s edge,
a crevice of moonlight shimmering the water.
It was a perpetual summer’s dusk,
the Washington monument behind us.
Such a spacious, still and quiet night,
we had decided to drive down for the evening,
just the two of us.
You laughed and buried your face in my chest,
and I melted because I had you.
My life and yours were one,
And I held you so tight as if to never let you go,
a grip so tight not even death could take it away,
with souls so wrapped up and intertwined,
destined for one another,
nothing could even come close to separating it.
My heart raced, a shrill of excitement,
of gratitude, of captivated wonder,
that our paths had finally crossed,
that you were my found treasure.
That I was yours.
But it was all just a dream.

does it have to be one?

impractical daydreamer | journalist | creative writer | photographer | blogger | hopeless romantic | world nomad | truth seeker | perpetual adventurer

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