The void

I’ve dreamed of you.

A million times over.

Every time you’re there, holding out your hand, but I can’t quite reach.

I can see you.

Your soft eyes, your brown skin, shining in the darkness.

The light comes from within you, but there is no source from where it comes.

It’s just there.

As you hold out your hand, I’m stretching, stretching trying to reach. Our fingertips touch and I feel the vibrant electricity our two energy fields create.

You smile and take away your hand.

And then you’re gone.

And I search for you.

Always looking in the darkness.

Hurting and aching and sobbing, for I don’t have your light to guide me.

I’m waving my arms frantically in darkness so dark, that the dark appears to absorb itself.

I don’t know what to do.

I’m falling in the void.

You took away my light.

Which direction do I go now?

So I just keep searching.

I wake up in a pool of sweat.

And all day the radio plays our songs.

I can’t escape you in wakefulness nor in sleep.

At least in sleep I get to see you.

And I get that faint glimmer of hope as you reach out your hand again and again, even though I know what’s coming.

Even though I know I will have to fall through the blackness of that black hole over and over and over.

At least I get to see your face.