I still dream about you.
In the place between sleep and awake, I find you there, tiny and faceless. Sometimes I am in a vast forest, and I see you lying under a tree, bathed in inky shadow. Other times, I find you on an island shore, your little voice piercing the silence and salty sea air, calling out for me to save you.
I always try to reach you.
I run through the tangled woods, legs pumping furiously, heart knocking against my tightening chest.
I swim through the choppy green water, hands clawing at angry surf, lungs protesting against my attempts.
Yet I can never close the gap between us.
I awake in the dark, sweat pouring from me, angry tears spilling onto my cheeks.
My eyes long to see your precious face, and my voice begs to soothe your tears. But most of all, my arms ache to hold you, hands crying out to feel your soft skin.
I know I haven't earned this privilege; the sacred right to comfort you like a mother would. I have left you somewhere I can never go, and this is my penance. I don't deserve you.
Not even in my dreams.
A/N: Thanks to clauderainsrm for extending a bit of grace to me in the midst of a frustrating situation. I do appreciate it so.