Kiss

I wonder how you sleep at night

With your anxiety so high

Your panic in short, quiet bursts

And sporadic terrors that are imagined

And somehow more real than even the

Ground you walk on

I wonder how you dream

I wonder if you think of me before you settle into that starry moonlit slumber

I think of you.

I pray to dream of you—-

Of a starlit, moon drenched first kiss, with you

When I was little, my parents

Never told me of fairy tales

They didn’t think I should believe in

Such tomfoolery.

But I dreamed of things. Of fairies, ghosts, knights, zombies, princesses, ghouls——everything. I mixed and mashed an amalgam of all the stories and fairy tales that I

Thought all parents told their kids before bedtime.

My parents didn’t kiss in front of my sister and I, either. We didn’t talk about feelings. We only

Stuck our middle finger up at each other

Because

“Fairy tales aren’t real.”

But, I realized my own fairy tale.

With art.

Art of us. Art others drew of us.

I found truth in the art, even as flawed and strange as it was:

I felt like it was the truest thing about myself—-opening up to you, believing in you——seeing you glow in confidence.

I was alone with my thoughts.

I denied any feelings other than indifference and outright frustration over the situation.

But, together, we took

That strange interconnected world(in our town) of our “pretend” love that garnered so much attention and reverence: and

Made it into something more real

Than anything I’ve ever felt,

And that was when I felt it.

This fairy tale I had been telling myself over and over in my heart,

In my head,

In my soul,

Had come true.

And… it was you.

You, honey.

You were my dream come true.

And through the barriers of time and space and stars and earth—-through mortality and morbidity and immortality—-

I broke through it all.

And you woke me up,

With a kiss. A real one. Like that princess that slept all day and all night, but in real life. Yeah.

A kiss that felt like the sun and the moon collided and created something terrifically luminous

And terrifying, yet

It is absolutely beautiful and perfect and our own fervent, painful release

A kiss of life.

And Tweek, that’s the only story

I need to continue.

Love, Craig

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Author note: here is a dream time poem about Craig and Tweek and their relationship. It is poem written in Craig’s perspective. So, South Park fanfiction poetry is now off my bucket list! Lol.

-Melissa