He tells her he misses her… I count down to when she will turn to me and ask me if its she he really misses or does he really miss the one before. I tell her its both of them he misses. She turns back around and tells me to tighten the blindfold. I do what she says, I can’t provide as much warmth as the comfort she’s wrapped herself with. Her past is repeating itself in front of her, and all she can do is ask me to tighten the grip.
She texts him good night… she awaits till he reciprocates her midnight wishes. The countdown starts. She turns to me, I pull out my hand and whisper, “just stop, you deserve someone to love you, and only you, not to just be with you because he doesn’t want to hurt you,” but the light of her phone distracts her. “Good night.”
She wakes up in a sweat. A nightmare has her in my arms. Her tears stroll down my shoulder. She dreams of herself and him, she dreams of his touch, she dreams of him filling her with every inch of him he can give. While they’re wrapped up in between his sheets, he calls out the name of the one before.
He’s keeping two loves to himself. Two lives, two loves. He lays both to sleep with the same words. He holds her without touch, he keeps her near even when states away. He won’t choose, he doesn’t need to because she’s not going anywhere.
She too has two lives, two loves. She won’t admit that he tells her what she wishes the one before would still tell her. And unlike the one before, she can hear his voice when she awakes, without the limitations that dream’s outer lining forces. He cradles her fragilty and vulnerability as the one before did. They’re becoming everything she aspired to become with the one before. He acts on the other’s unspoken words. He places the flowers in her open hands when she wakes up from saying goodbye to the one before. She won’t let him go, cause she needs to be chained to love, even if the anchor isn’t being held down by the one before.
