A.V

It was morning. I woke up, folded my sheets, and brushed my teeth. A weird smile crept across my face as I sat down my brain flashing snips of the dream I had. A lovely, yet shy dream. I could only scream into the pillow and hide my face in pure embarrassment. "Why was she in my dream? She, a friend I don’t consider close, but I do care about. Why would she be in my dream?!" I can’t even smile properly. My shoulders draw in, and I huddle up with the pillows as the details flow back into my mind. It was a dream about intimacy the kind my soul craves deeply. Her head rested in my lap, my fingers wandered through the silk of her hair, not rushed, not needing anything just the slow language of care. Holding her gracefully soft hands, I leave wet imprints of my lips on them. Her small stature fits in my arms, and femininity melts at my touch. Her head rests on my shoulder with care, arms wrap onto mine with trust not hollow, but whole. The world faded around her. There...

"Father, I want to fight the war" No, you won't. "Why won't you let me do anything?!" Hmm Then tell me why you want to join the war. "I want to become a man and protect my country from those devils on the other side. I want to be something good in my life. And even if I die, I want to die fighting for something worth it." Hmm "And I want to kill all those people who dare to take our land away from us." Kill, you say, child. Do you know what it means to kill? To have blood on your hands, your enemies' blood, cutting throats while they beg for mercy? I have killed dozens of kids your age. So don't you dare talk about killing. "Then at least let me die a hero, Father, fighting for the right cause." Let me open your eyes, child. You’ll die a gruesome death at the border, and they’ll give you a glory you’ll never get to see. If you want your life to matter, it's not death that makes it worthy, it's what yo...

The house lies bare a mess not far off from my mind. Hair still heavy with the weight of wet tears from the shower. The elastic of panties clings softly to me, and the baggy T-shirt sways with my steps. My shoulders ache from the weight they carry, or the days they couldn’t. The lights are out. Crickets jeer like voices outside myself mocking the responsibilities I bear yet falter to fulfil. I lay open in this dark room, on a bed that has known the full truth of my sleepless nights. I stuffed these ears of mine with earphones and turned up the volume,  to deafen the thoughts and voices  that speak no good. Only mellow songs broke through. They melt the ice that’s lingered far too long. My legs feel the  quiet warmth, of each other's soft embrace.  Sliding over each other with solace,  While the shawl's threads  caress my skin with patient hush. My tired eyes stare upward at the fan, still turning. Doing its job. Endlessly. Tirelessly. Not long after, battli...