Inside Roy's Heart

Roy slipped into my skin again. In a dream that continues to cling to me. I remember not the logistics of it; time, place, circumstance for those things are of no consequence in dreams such as this one.

I became aware that I was not myself when I gazed down at my hand. It was the hand of another. Long fingers with knuckles too pronounced to be female, wiry black hairs reaching out from thick wrists. And though the realization should have alarmed me, it didn’t. It felt…..natural. Made more so by the blonde siren at my side. Long curtain of corn silk hair over slight shoulders. It, she, smelled of vanilla and calla lilies. She gazes up at me, her expression soft, inviting, with just the barest hint of sadness, as though she’s been waiting several life times to do just this…..sit beside me, sit so close that she could feel the heat emanating from my body, or rather his, I should say. And as my eyes caress every feature of her arresting face I realize that I have been waiting too.

Slender fingers on my neck, soft warm lips on the palm of my hand, the sensation of falling without the aid of gravity. My blonde siren places her fragrant head where her fingers had just been. I cradle her face in my large hand. She’s all silk and warm caramel melting against me. I breathe, for the first time.

The dream evaporates. I lay there unable to slip back into unconsciousness. Something inside me keeps reaching for her, for the feel of the air around her, for the swell of emotion her presence evoked. The likes of which words have never been invented for. I keep reaching. But she’s gone. She was never mine to begin with. She belongs to him.