It is so far away from me now, like a fantasy I have enacted again and again in my mind in the dreary moments of life, until it has lost its dream substance quality, and taken on a life of its own. Yet the dream quality remains.
The dark room, illuminated only by soft candle light, the painfully romantic song playing in the background – this is the stuff of dreams. The simple food shared on a simple futon with a glass of wine, the easy conversation, the way my head lay on your shoulder, and the way your fingers were lightly, gently stroking my hair – those are the building blocks of a fantasy.
Yet, this moment is real, perfect as it may be, the way a solitaire diamond that is set high in a ring catches the sunlight, only to reflect it into the eyes of the astounded viewers.
It is so far away from me now, and yet it walks with me always, the beauty and horror of it. It carries me through long nights in which I watch my baby’s troubled sleep, and it shadows me when I caress another’s body, but even the shadow is warm, and I smile at it.
I have known you for twelve years, most of which were a rollercoaster of passion and rejection, the short lived torment of being together and the long lived torture of being apart.
And in the end, because this might well be the end, there came this moment of dazzling beauty and truth, and then I was gone.