Night Terrors
I put a huge orange bolster into the crook of my arm, and nuzzled my face into it. I tried so hard to imagine it was you, but it was cold.
Warmth.. I need your warmth.
I think most people in love can agree with me, sleeping 1000 leagues away from the one you love, sucks. Even the span of a bedroom away is horrible. What more to say a town, a sea, continents.
While you lie in bed, eyes wide open, staring at the inky blackness as it forms shapes... you imagine things. You pray to God to keep her safe, and utter non-syllabic words under your breath, that denote your, your anguish should any harm come to she.
You slough your mind through the muck of screaming words, heard only in your own mind. Words that pitifully cry, "I can't live without her, without you. Please, please". You plead, but you don't know who is listening. Your body is shaking under the bedclothes, bristling in the cold, aching for someone to listen, and protect her.
It is an age old form of night terrors, where you live through every second, of a death that would be worse than your own. I would rather die a hundred times, slay 50 years off my own life, than have her suffer.
-Jacqueline
Warmth.. I need your warmth.
I think most people in love can agree with me, sleeping 1000 leagues away from the one you love, sucks. Even the span of a bedroom away is horrible. What more to say a town, a sea, continents.
While you lie in bed, eyes wide open, staring at the inky blackness as it forms shapes... you imagine things. You pray to God to keep her safe, and utter non-syllabic words under your breath, that denote your, your anguish should any harm come to she.
You slough your mind through the muck of screaming words, heard only in your own mind. Words that pitifully cry, "I can't live without her, without you. Please, please". You plead, but you don't know who is listening. Your body is shaking under the bedclothes, bristling in the cold, aching for someone to listen, and protect her.
It is an age old form of night terrors, where you live through every second, of a death that would be worse than your own. I would rather die a hundred times, slay 50 years off my own life, than have her suffer.
-Jacqueline
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