I wake up on a Tuesday morning and instinctually reach my hand to your side of the bed. It is cold, like the underbelly of a pillow. My eyes are still closed as I feel around for some sign of you. Some reassurance there will be a warm body when I finally decide to look. That you’ll be there, long lashes fluttering with little remnants of sleep. You’ll be there, ready to greet the day with me.
But you’re not. You never are.
You’re the guy of my dreams because that’s the only place I can expect our reunion.
I know you’ll be there waiting for me with a bouquet of sunflowers. I know you’ll be there with that ridiculously big grin. My darling, bright boy. You look so beautiful in this light. You look so beautiful in my REM cycle.
Because we cannot be together in this life, I’m always anxious to take a nap. My little sister says I’m always sleeping and I don’t know how to tell her it’s because of you. I don’t know how to say I’m more in love with my dreams than I am reality.
When I’m asleep, we apologize for any wrongdoing and pick up where we left off. When I’m dreaming, we’re touching and in love, and I never worry about when my alarm might go off. I’m too happy. In this moment, I’ve got everything I could ever need. I’d sleep forever if it meant I have you with me.
You are every beautiful thought I’ve ever had.
You are the moment of electricity before a first kiss. You’re purple and baby blue, and every color that’s taken my breath away. You’re the cheese on my gluten-free pasta, baby, I don’t know how to talk about you without getting sentimental. My funny honey. My favorite dream.
Seeing you is the best part of my night. And the hardest part of my morning. It always hurts. And part of me thinks it always will. That lurch in my stomach when I open my eyes and remember you aren’t in bed next to me. You probably never will be.
But I’ll see you in my dreams. I’ll see you where everything I’ve ever wanted can actually come true.