Tifa – Longing
It's a nice dream.
Sometimes, when I first wake in the morning, I lie motionless beneath my blankets and pretend that if I were to turn my head a fraction of a distance and open my eyes, I'll see you there. Your hair, always wild, will be more so – tousled by sleep. You'll be sleeping, breathing softly; I'll move slightly, and your lashes will flutter slowly before opening, revealing to me eyes the vibrant blue one sees as dawn first graces the world. And in your sleepy, disoriented gaze I'll watch as comprehension dawns, as you remember the events of the night previous, of all the gentle words whispered, of an embrace sweeter than anything either of us has ever known. You'll give me your smile –that simple, warm curving of the lips that makes me want to touch you, to hold you- and you'll whisper to me a meaningless greeting of the morning. And then you'll reach for me, still smiling …
It's a desperate dream.
I picture you by my side as we walk the streets of the upper plate, fingers entwined with mine, lightly caressing to let me know that no matter how casual you seem, you love me with all you are. And as we round a corner you'll push me quickly into a darkened alley away from the eyes of onlookers, pressing me against the hard brick wall and covering your mouth with mine. We'll share breath; we'll meld and become the single union of souls we were always meant to become …
It's a fervent dream.
I can imagine when I sit in the large, over-stuffed blue arm chair in the corner of my cramped apartment, that you're only late from work, that you'll be here soon. You've been held up by traffic, or by your boss demanding you stay late; when you arrive I'll rise from my chair and run to you, wrap my arms around you and playfully demand that you carry me into the bedroom and make love to me. And you'll smile between kisses and cheerfully acquiesce to my wishes, telling me that you love me …
It's a hopeless dream.