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It has been far too long since I've held someone in my arms.
And I don't mean embracing my family after the holidays.
No, I mean held,
arms wrapped, firm but gentle, just holding on because you can,
holding on and being held,
and nothing to tear you apart.

I think about him sometimes.
I think about what it would be like to hold him
the way I used to hold another,
to be held by him the way another held me once upon a faded dream.
Dreams pass in time,
but I'm ready for a new one.
I'm ready for the next one, a dream delayed by chaos,
love averted by fear
that no one will ever love me again,
want to hold me again,
want to kiss me again.

I think about him sometimes,
when I'm feeling lonely and needing a lover's touch.
I wonder what it would be like to be so close,
protective walls shattered between us as we become one,
love like I've never known before.
Every cell in my body trembles when he's near,
my self-restraint barely in check.
And in those moments where we flirt,
I wonder if it could ever be real.
No more dreams or broken hearts,
no more fantasies of how to start,
just us and the world,
us,
us.

We could be so good together,
at least that's what my heart tells me.
My brain, on the other hand, doesn't know up from down,
and can't handle the thought of finding out.
Rejection doesn't sound as scary as learning we might be amazing.
I know what I feel, I won't be untrue,
But I wouldn't know the first thing to say,
and though my heart's screaming in my face,
my lips remain sealed,
still wading through the darkness of a once forgotten dream.

He loves me.
He loves me not.
He loves me.
He loves me not.
He loves me.
He loves me...

In sharp relief, the dream returns,

a tangle of limbs and laughter, comfort beyond comfort,

never more vulnerable, never more safe,

never more perfect in its imperfection.

I forgot how easy it is to fall in love,

and how hard it is to get there at all.

I think about him sometimes

for no reason whatsoever

and people ask me why I'm smiling,

glowing like they've never before seen,

but how can I explain the wealth in my heart beside

the gaps in my wallet without

sounding like a fool?

There is no logic in this, none that I can see,

and yet there's a wholeness in me which defies past experience,

each burden seeming less heavy,

the baggage more manageable with the right company.

I think about him sometimes,

maybe more than sometimes, just whenever,

wondering how long until I'm in his arms again,

still trembling under his touch despite newfound familiarity.

Nothing pleases me more than to put a smile on his lips,

to hear that huff of laughter

and knowing that I caused it.

Tender loving touches have never felt so good,

anything he does more magical,

everything we are more beautiful.

And then the dream is reality,

as it always has been,

no more fantasies or distant care.

And all the nightmare terrors and monster fears

disappear in the rising sun.

The darkness pales beside our light,

even the harshest of shadows fading away,

yielding to remembered certainty.

I remember.