Dreaming of the Past

I wake up in the past. There you sit with blue eyes that smile up at me. You’re shy and I’m quiet. I don’t know if I should say what I am really thinking. I listen to you talk about your past and how it’s affected you today and I hear your words when you tell me that you’re broken. The words you say hang onto your lips and cause them to fall into a slight frown. My fingers are tingling at the thought of brushing that stray hair behind your ear. I wanted to say that you are not broken. You are perfectly shaped and melted down to fit into this world. I want to say that I feel the same way. I am lost and wading through my thoughts about you. I am broken because I shouldn’t feel this way. Yet here you are with your dirty blonde hair in a mess and that brilliant laugh. I should have told you that I loved you with more than just my broken words. Still remembering, I fast forward to when the door is closed and I break down outside your bedroom. The house is still and I cover my mouth so that no sound escapes. Pulling myself together, I jiggle the knob and push to reveal your dark figure laying under the blankets. The music plays softly allowing me to hear your gentle breathing. I walk forward, crawl onto the other side of the bed, and lay my head next to yours and you play sweet melodies to me from your iPod.  Again, a whisper sighs “I’m broken” and I can no longer tell if it’s you or me. I hold you tight and we pretend that the end isn’t near. The promises we make are meant well but when I awake, they are all broken. You are gone. I should have told you that I am broken. Maybe then you would have known not to let me in.