Through the Eyes of a Fallen Angel- Dream

Is this a dream? Have I fallen into the reality of someone else? Upon waking I find a goddess in peaceful sleep upon my chest. The sweet aroma of moonlight path soap and shampoo and the lingering scent of saline surround our peaceful world. The memory of a few hours ago has faded to gray. Her hair feels soft against my plastic skin. It slides through my fingers like velvet clings to a warm body. Her breathing reminds me that all that is beautiful in this world is not lost; that it is still worth it. She shifts in her dreamland and I giggle. In plain damn English, the girl is cute. 1

She is everything that I have not the courage to be. She is the strength of a dam, the hope of a child, the faith of those with religion, the freedom of a wild horse. She is the sun in the sky, the moon at night; each star is a testament to her beauty. She is everything. But her mirror does not reflect what I see. She sees me as I see her and she sees herself as I see myself. The love of another changes everything but the love we have for ourselves.2

Ah, the goddess has awoken. She looks up at me with her dark eyes, still misted from sleep. I hope that she sees the softness in mine. I brush the hair out of her face. She turns into it and my hand cups her cheek. She's so soft, so fragile it seems. Her skin feels so unlike mine; she feels real. She closes her eyes at my touch. Fear courses through me that I've hurt her but she doesn't pull away.3

She rolls over and lies on her back inches from my body. I lean on an elbow to gaze at her. Thoughts are unspoken between us. She reaches up to me, touches my hair, my face, my soul. I lean into her safety. Trace my lips over her forehead, her eyelids. So soft and gentle. Down over her warm, flushed cheeks to her pink lips. I don't kiss her at first, I can't. I linger there and our hot breath glides through the others'. I brush my lips against her bottom lip. 4

Maybe I'm afraid of what this means. Maybe I'm just teasing her. 5

I brush my lips against hers again, a little harder this time. Running my teeth over her bottom lip, she moans ever so softly. I can't help but smile.6

I rest one hand against her cheek; the other is holding me over her. As I start to kiss her, softly at first, she pushes her fingers into my hair at the back of my head and the other she rests on my arm. She starts to return my kisses, our lips pressing together like puzzle pieces that fit. Running my tongue over her bottom lip, she parts them ever so slightly, allowing my entrance. I resist at first, the temptation a sin itself. A quiet moan escapes her as if to plead with me to take more. I cannot let her beg.7

My tongue finds hers. Sin has never tasted so sweet. I melt into her, acutely aware of every hot breath, every heartbeat, every longing for more. Heaven is but a fraction of her sweetness.8

Breaking away from her tender lips I continue to trace my lips over her skin. I feel her tremble in pleasure. Kissing her elegant neck I can feel her pulse quicken beneath my touch. Each soft, sucking kiss pulls a deeper breath and a quiet moan from the depths of her soul.9

She places her hand on my back in a half embrace, the other still tangled in my hair. Never in my life have I felt so entirely feminine, so wanted. Never have I felt so needed, safe, or whole. Every molecule that forms my body longs to fill her, to melt into her, and mold to her spirit. Longing has never left me so hungry before. 10

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