Waking Dream

I woke up today gripped by a sadness so overwhelming it was like a vise.


This crushing embrace is not a stranger ; I've been seized and squeezed by its bony fingers before.


I know what triggered it; both events are out of my hands.


A curious thought wafted in as I transitioned between my troubled dreams and anxious wakefulness: "Some people are lucky to wake up at all."


But now I am awake, and once more find myself in a fugue.


I would run, run, run back into the arms of unconsciousness.


But there would be no solace in slumber.


Because the phantasms invade my dreams and I cannot lose them, not even in the labyrinthine corridors of my subconscious.




And so here I am, awake.



Staring at bleakness.




In despair's cold embrace.

The Kiss

I was sulking - over what I don't remember anymore.

He paid it no mind and instead, playfully wrapped an arm around my neck and rocked it back and forth - not quite a bear hug, more of a cub strangle.

I shot him a mock-dagger look only to be met by a pair of eyes twinkling with mischief. He was bad news : the "town whore" was an accurate - if loving - moniker. And yet, when he drew me closer, I didn't bother to resist.

I closed my eyes as our lips met in a moist, tender kiss. He had full lips - the kind I like to nibble and suckle on when I smooch. It was warm in that crooked embrace, and in this brash, boisterous, flirtatious boy I caught a glimpse of my old self again.

And then we kissed some more, and I remember thinking how good it was to kiss. To surrender to passion, to lust, to sexual excitement again - even if love wasn't in the equation.

Our lips parted. I opened my eyes to look at him.






And then I woke up.