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You’re tormented by your memories. Again. I know it not because you told me. I just know. From the way you keep stirring your breakfast oatmeal in the porcelain. Ten round to the right. – Ten round to the left. – One bite. – Repeat. From how the clear blue of your eyes turned grey. And from the lifeless and alien look on your face, that is a grotesque mirror of your vibrant past-self.
In your dream you once again fell into the death-cold abyss, where a red star, dripping with blood, stared down at you from the snow coated gray sky. At least, that’s how you told me one night, trembling in my arms, with a still wandering mind after ripping yourself out of the cruel claws of your nightmare with a grievous cry.
I’ve got you back, but from time to time I still feel like I’m losing you again. When the present slips through your fingers… when your lungs fiercly reject the oxygen, or when the murder-tinted memories mute you, strangle your words right at the back of your throat for days.
You scare me, but for you, I’ll always be brave. And when it’s needed to anchor you into the present, I’ll kiss you with the memories of our past, hoping you can find your way back to me, to our now.
I promise I won’t lose hold of you again. Never ever.