THIEF [S.M.]

seven

Journal Entry #72

So, last night I had another dream about Venus. Surprise, surprise, right?

I just woke up, and I felt obligated to write it down so it doesn't end up leaving my mind, like so many other beloved dreams had, before I acquired the chance to cherish them. But now I'm determined to start logging more of my dreams. I want to remember these things. They're as close as I get to a relationship with Venus.

It was she and I, lying in a nest of silk sheets and pillows. Her smooth, soft legs were tangled with mine, and her sweet face was pressed against my chest. I could feel her heartbeat against my abdomen.

I slowly moved my hand up to her face, grazing her freckled cheek. Chills ignited in my stomach. It seemed so real, I could've sworn it was actually happening, but there was still a faint blur to everything, and it was all too good to be true.

I would stay asleep forever if it meant being with her.

A grumble escaped the small crease between her intimidatingly perfect lips as she stirred, turning to face the opposite direction of the thin line of sunlight shining in. She then proceeded to kick the sheets off of her, and tuck a pillow under her arm.

Every thing she did was so absolutely beautiful. She was so extraordinarily beautiful.

I had such an aching urge to reach out and touch her, so I outstretched an uncertain arm and draped it across her waist, moving close enough to smell the mild strawberry scent of her silky hair.

My eyes squeezed closed, as a burst of undivided relief dispersed throughout my body, my hands tingling, my heart pounding, my toes wriggling.

I could feel her smooth fingertips trace across the top of my hand, dancing in foreign patterns across my skin.

This was all I wanted. I didn't want just sex out of her, she was more than that. She was a work of art. She was everything I ever wanted, and she was in my grasp. She was mine.

Startling me, Venus turned back over to face me. She had a hearty, contagious, smile enhancing her facial features. Her eyes shifted from my eyes to my lips, and her kiss became imminent, until it happened.

I want it to be true. I want the imaginary love we have for each other to be reality. I'm tired of having to be asleep to be with her. I just want her. I need her. I love her. Why does it hurt so bad that she's not mine? Why do I feel this way?

In my dream, she was in love with me. Her kiss was laced with passion, lust, and affection. Her touch was woven with pure idolatry. Everything she did was. (That is, in my dreams of course.)

As she wrapped her small figure around my much bigger one, and hid away her face in the crook of my neck, her chest rising and falling slowly, I couldn't get over how amazing it felt.

You know that feeling you get where you feel your insides becoming all warm and fuzzy and you lungs just kind of deflate? I think that's what love feels like, because every time I dreamt about her, or even made any sort of contact with her, I got that exact feeling. The feeling of floating above the clouds aimlessly. The feeling of losing yourself. The unavoidable weakening in your joints. That giddy burst you get in your chest. Isn't that love?