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Dreams
She wakes with the smell of moon beams and the taste of stardust on her lips.
She sees every movement of the clouds without opening her eyes, and she feels the gentle breeze on her face before she opens the window.
She lies there afraid that when she opens her eyes, she will lose her perfect world.
Afraid that when she awakens, he'll be there,
Waiting for her.
Waiting for a repeat of last night.
Suddenly, she's aware of everything.
She turns and places her feet on the floor, walks to the bathroom, and looks in the mirror.
She looks past her reflection and sees him.
He's standing right behind her.
He has his hand behind his back.
Her heart skips a beat as he slowly moves toward her.
He pulls his hand from behind his back and hands her a dozen red rozes.
The same roses she got last week when he was "sorry."
She accepts the roses and walks into his arms so as not to ager him, but deep in her heart, she knows it'll happen again.
So, she'll dream her dreams of golden sunsets and glistening stars when in her own reality she sleeps under a blanket of purple bruises and blackened eyes.
Caressed not by moon beams and stardust but by "I'm sorry roses" and measningless apologies.
Until the day it will be no more.
The day she'll sleep not with swollen eyes and a tear-stained face but in the comfort and security of love.
Surrounded not by violence but by peace.
Laura A. Bennett
