Sometimes I wondered whether she was real, in a way. The warmth of her hand, the sparkle of her eyes, the brush of her nose against mine. It felt more like reality than when I was awake. My days were a blur, waiting for the moment my eyes could flutter shut and my murky nightmares would shift into the blissful fantasy. I missed her dearly, but I had grown used to the ache in my heart.
I had not seen her in more than a year, but the memories had not faded. If I were a painter, I would capture her likeness in long, sweeping brushstrokes. If I were a poet, I would write sonnets about her otherworldly beauty - the curve of her nose, the freckles dotting her cheeks, the softness of her jawline. I remembered the things she said to me - the way she made me feel like I could do anything, like I could be vulnerable, like I could tell her my deepest fears and she would tell me I was strong regardless.
Perhaps, it was my conscious mind telling myself all along.
I did not shiver, the first time she touched me, the way I had with lovers in the past. I had leaned into her touch, her hand cupping the edge of my face. She had closed her eyes and laughed, a sound pure and jovial. When she pulled forward to place her lips on mine, I had awoken. Though perhaps I was disappointed, I fell back asleep with a smile on my face.
And although my eyes are misty now, the same smile returns to my face. Though her love is not something I can experience, it is within me, flowing through my veins, flowering just beneath the surface.
I originally wrote this as a POV inspired by this playlist - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cegCt4ERa28&t=64s
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short original stories
Randomhi there! this is going to be a collection of short stories/scenes I've written that I want to share but aren't enough to be anything on their own. I hope you enjoy :)
