Dreamers of the Day

Dreamers of the Day

By Cinnamon

"All men dream: but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds wake in the day to find that it was vanity: but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act out their dream with open eyes, to make it possible."

-T.E. Lawrence

Sometimes a touch can whisper, something better left unsaid. Brush of fingertips along lips, and lips along collarbones, all far more eloquent than simple words could ever be. I never thought wanting could be like this, because I have never wanted until you. Like a thousand layers of shadow wrapped around me, and I struggle to escape, and just as I think I’ve fought my way free, your teeth graze the hollow of my throat and I’m lost again in the tiny purr in the back of yours.

Lost in whispers and tiny, fingerprint bruises, shaky breaths lost in silence, and green eyes that glitter with thoughts so profound that I’ve never even been worthy of glimpsing them until now, until now when you’re on top of me, all over me, inside of me, and your hot breath rattles against my throat. Tilt my head back and close my eyes, you’re ripping me apart, and I could die like this. I want to die like this. I’d do anything to die like this. I’d kill to die like this. I’d kill to feel it all over again.

When you touch… me… like…. ohh, I’d kill for this to last forever.

I’ve never wanted, needed, loved like this, and only in darkness. You smile; I thought you would. But I don’t want you to smile. I want you to cry because something inside of you moves when I touch you like this, because something inside of you explodes into a thousand shimmering shards of glass that rain down on top of you and I and embed themselves into our hot skin. I want you to cry because something inside of you slips into darkness that threatens to maim and kill and offers such intense and screaming pleasure that nothing you have ever known would ever measure up to that level of profound understanding. I want you to lose yourself in this perfection that never should have been, because it is profound, and nothing else about me could ever reach this level of perfection. Except what you offer me and I am too clumsy to accept. Too frightened to accept. And I don’t want you to know. I don’t want you to know. And I don’t want you to smile.

Like that— too… too perfect to be understood— too fragile to explain, but everything and nothing all at once and— yes, like that… and I’m everything and nothing, everything and nothing, and you’ve torn me into shreds and left me drifting in the wind— but oh, oh when you touch me like that… you destroy me… you destroy me— But God. When you touch me like that… Everything comes apart and starts to tremble, and I don’t want to breathe because I fear that drawing a breath would shatter the promises we’ve wrapped ourselves in. Destroy the lies we hide behind, even as you touch my soul, with enough force to destroy, and yet so gently, I am undone. Shivering and aching and needing. And I never knew need until you.

You smile; I thought you might.