Unrequited

I use to dream about you.

The way your hair would hang in your face and you’d give me my look, the one that was made and given only to me, until I would brush your golden locks behind your ears and kiss you.

Now when I dream about you, you give me that look. I lean in close and centimeters from your lips I stop for something is wrong.

The smell from your body hits me. The decayed air you breathe hits my lips and makes me want to vomit. I try to pull back but you stop me. One grayish hand clasped to my wrist, the other hand sticking the bony fingers in the back of my head bringing me closer to your lips.

I’ll wake just as our lips meet. I’ll wipe an old wrinkled hand across my lips. The old man moving in the mirror frightens me for a moment before I recall that’s what I look like now.

I get up and walk to the window. I look out onto the lake where the moon would reflect if it were in the sky. I try to see if there is an outline of your dark shape gliding back into the lake, to your new home.

I’ll recall the night we were alone together you gave me my look, the look full of hatred. You’d try to walk away and I grabbed your wrist pulling you close. Dislodging the golden curls from behind your ear. I gently replace it and you struggle as I move closer.

I don’t understand why you wouldn’t let me love you. I just wanted to love you.

Now you’re the one who won’t leave me alone.