Angel Mine
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I awake, tired as can be, before I turn my head; only the slimmest sliver of light, slithering in from between the panelled windows, hits my eye. The room is all but black, yet I know she is there. The woman I dream of, every day and every night, in deepest slumbers and as I fade out of my own waking life.
I do not know her, I would not think to care to. For who is she but a phantom, a memory, or a wish coming home to torment me?
I reach out and brush the hair from her face, my skin touches her cheek and I cannot help but think of the scandal. The absurdity.
I do not love her, nor have I ever, would ever, choose to feel any other sort of affection for her. She is merely here, beside me on my beautiful bed. Swallowed up by my sheets and all but pressed against me.
Her body breathes, of that I am sure. I can feel her breath on my neck, her lips almost dare to entice and lure me in. I can’t help but shed a tear, for even after all this time, I am utterly unaware of who she could possibly be.
I am not… in love with her, such a thing is not right in my eyes. Nor does she tempt me, yet here I am, living and crying along to the beat of her heart. I can feel the rush of blood, even as I shed a tear.
I do suffer, at times I feel I might just break down into my own misery, my own melancholy. Such a thing might grow from deeper parts than merely the unrequited affections of this beautiful and mysterious woman.
They say I am beautiful as well, I have no choice but to believe them. As they praise me, as they use me. They hold me up to the night sky and skyscrapers are all decorated by my own visage. They say I am a queen, both of music and product. The face of my own self, barely managing to compete against the creams, the clothes, and perfumes.
I am so commercialized, how could I ever compare to this woman who is but an angel in every regard? She is not like me, she is not plastered on plaster and sucked dry by the void. I so wish I could compare, or at least understand her grand perfection.
“The morning will be here soon. Will you be gone by then?” I ask, my words even considerate, to a point.
A hushed tone, she simply nods her head with but the slightest of motions as I can understand she is still so deeply and utterly enraptured by her own dreams.
“Always.” she says to me, not with malice, yet with understanding of how it must be.
And still, I am befuddled as to how she has managed to find her way into my own home.
I do not love her, such is not the way of my heart. Never have I taken interest, never have I even wondered. But there she is, heartbeat to heartbeat, her skin as pleasant as anything I could ever hope to be near.
I sigh… For weeks, and months, and years… She is always there, I do not know what to make of it. She will be gone soon, of that I am fairly certain… Though I do worry of what may occur if she were to merely linger and stay forever by my side.
How will I explain her to others? As I walk, talk, eat, and breathe through my own beautiful world. On a plane and in an empty room where I wander off to in hopes of collecting my thoughts. I suppose they might all think me mad, at least she has been nothing but gentle thus far.
Is she… a phantom perhaps? A sinner hoping to lower my defenses? Should such a thing happen, I would be violated beyond regard.
I worry dearly, in fact. But such is how it must be, lest my own subconscious tear my life away from me.
“I do not know you.” I whisper to her, yet she does not reply. She only and always, simply, continues to wallow in her dreams.
Perhaps one day I’ll have the strength to yell? I’ve politely attempted to roll her off, as it seemed as good an idea as any. Why would it not work, no reason why she’d protest. After all, she is but a stranger and an intruder to my abode.
Though I fear if I had an explanation in just a second or two, it would already be much too late.
I do not believe I will kiss her and so I will haplessly remain silent and wait for the morning to truly arrive. It should, it always does. Perhaps one day…
I close my eyes once more, I think back to the time I attempted to roll her away… only for me to wrap my arms around her and shed my tears. Never had I been so understood as she took my pain and breath away. She might just be an angel after all.
If only I knew who you were, sweet phantom which haunts my dreams…
If only all the other visions could be as kind as you.