I long for my days to end, so I can lay my head back down.
The few days that I can get myself out of bed.
I look forward to the dreams, the nightmares, anything to escape this world.
The ability to lose myself, lose all control.
Lost in the dreams that seem to accentuate the world more than reality.
Dreaming of being the driver steering off the road.
Because when I open my eyes, and I see the world as it truly is,
I realize something.

I am not the cure to a better life for you. I cannot completely diminish the wrongs, the pain.
I can only create more doors. A treatment rather than the full alleviation.
I may open windows, create a cool breeze, but I will never be your final choice.
I will never be the worthy among the many alternatives.
I will never be the drive pushing you out of your comfortable zone, the one behind your wheel.
You may relieve my pain, assure me I would go to all limits,
leave me only one door to choose from with absolute certainty it is the only one I want,
but that is not where you are.

You tell me I am wrong, tell me everything is going to be okay,
but the truth comes out time and time again.

Because I go the extra mile, and I take the extra steps,
and you just remain still,
contemplating which door to walk through next.

I only wish you could understand this enchantment,
the constant thrill in every thought, the spell I am under.
An illusion so powerful, that trickery only seems contrary to deception.

Your charm has this resilient influence over me.
All of my old tendencies seem to have disappeared into the flames,
the ones turning to sparks that rise above us under this summer twilight.

Because around you, magic transforms to life.
There is no reason, no rhyme, no hidden key out of plain sight.
There is just you and the reflection of my memory,
placing your image in my home.
Reminding me that magic may still remain.
Reminding me it still exists.

Every cornerstone in life leads to a disbelief,
yet you are the one that brings it all back.
The one making me believe in the magic that typically does not subsist in adulthood.
The one who made the feelings simmer for years, until they began to boil
And that heat keeps me warm,
It heats the passion, that led to this love.

This greatness, it keeps me alive.

Can't you see, that I am tired of starting over again?
Tired of starting somewhere new time after time?

I long for the unoriginal.
Give me the old, give me the outdated and the used.
Give me anything but the pristine, for that feeling is more overdone than any of it.
I no longer want the pure. I no longer want what is considered fresh.

You have been a friend of mine, a friend before a lover, a lover while a friend.
You have seen my scratches and my wounds in development.
You witnessed this faulty course of mine, and you watched me spoil in my steps.
I am damaged goods. A consistent imperfection.
And we went through the new-found appeal, the sinful temptation, time and time again.
We opened many books, reaching no further than the first chapter before setting them down again.
Never did we make it to the next part of the story.

The next stage after the original becomes a simple custom. A natural tendency.
I crave this routine. I ache for what I already know. My one true desire.

Because no matter how practiced we may seem,
you never seize to surprise me, and give me something new every day.
You know my weaknesses, my defects among the new models, yet here you stand.

I do not want fresh, no. I do not want brand new. Because you remain flawless, a true classic.
The shiny new toys, the ageless archetypes, none of those compare.

I want to grow along side you. I want to become the paradigm of a lasting survival.
I want to fix the defects so I can mend a new mold, a brand new version. The new to you.
Original, fresh, unmarked and undamaged. A new desire. And something worth your embrace.
To be the supreme prototype in your eyes, never out of date. And never to expire.

You are my greatest endeavor, to a life I never envisioned feasible.
The greatest exception, to prove all my certainties untrue.
Yet this new conviction still brings havoc to my soul.
Is there some reservation I refuse to unleash?

I have lived with such a calm breeze gliding me through life in ease.
I never stumbled through the turmoil, or let the air lift me from the ground.
When the wind came, I walked forward, I never dared go against it.
To fight through a weightless load, to provoke simplicity, gamble with the slightest of chance,
those were the risks I was never willing to take.

My prudence kept me sane, it kept me grounded.
Deal with the pull, don't push destiny.
A deathly game I would not play. My heart against my mind.

Yet this windfall fought its own fate.
It enticed me to battle the cool breeze, to walk the opposing route,
struggle through the hurricanes, and survive the spin of the tornadoes.
And when the storms lifted me off my feet, I let them.
When the wind was my enemy, I teased its disposition. I laughed at its dispute.
No longer was any game worth not playing.
Life was now a gamble, and I would conquer its challenges. I would be the victor of its trade.

Because when you swept me off my feet, you left me in such disbelief.
You told me you cannot fight fate. And I now believe you.
Because the wind became my friend, and together we soar.
Into your arms it thrusts me, averting my fear, and pushing me to gamble.
This storm I will face. These chances I will take.

I woke up this morning feeling out of the norm.
I could not fathom why this was as the day went on.
But sometime around midnight it all came back to me,
it was my most recent dreams. They sunk into me like knives through the heart.

I was on a rollercoaster, alone in a dark space, the neon lights clouding any incentive.
I closed my eyes in complete terror, and I watched our history speed by in the darkness.
Around and round I went, wondering why I had ever bothered.

And when it was all over, you were waiting outside.
You saw me, noticed my panic, and you fled without looking back.

There was a time nothing could tear us apart.
You were the opposite strip to a magnetic field, constantly pulling us together,
even when every piece of matter wanted us to part.
And I loved our connection, I loved the pull that would never let me go.

But when I opened my eyes, I knew. I was the one pulling.
I was the positive to the negative that became one neutral state.  

Even my subconscious sought to warn me of the anticipated destruction of our magnetic attraction.
And I wondered what possibility there would ever be that you could accept your polar opposite.

Yet I fear the next dream will simply show me the end of it.
I expect no outcome, I expect nothing at all.
For my life is dedicated to attracting a negative, something to become one.
And without you, I am nothing. Living without meaning, living without possibility.
Simply awaiting the next time my mind spins me in circles,
and brings me to my greatest fears, and also to the worst of them all.
Life without you. This is where I say goodbye, as the black hole takes me into bewilderment.

We have traveled thousands of miles, seen the world in different lengths.
Crossed the ocean to see some divergence in the world.
We went our separate ways, yet found our back way to each other.
With no incentive and no logic,
I found myself in your arms again.

For we may have been across an ocean, in a different world,
an unrecognizable locality, but I still found my true home.
The place I feel safe, the place there is comfort.
No geography can place a distance between us,
and not due to any numerical implication.

Because even across the world, there you are.
The one waiting in the bus station, and knocking on the hotel door.
The one walking me off the train and seeing me off to a flight.

But eventually reality would set back in. Across the ocean we would go again.
And my only expectation was that the close proximity would bring us further apart.

But now, in this place that was my home, you are more my home than ever.
For you are no longer waiting on the end of a one way trip,
you're the one next to me. The one behind the wheel steering us towards a better place.
And for the first time, there is this sense of control.
Seeing you next to me, not through the tinted window or a heavy door, just your hand in reach,
makes me thankful to be alive every day, to wake up every morning,
and know that you will never be an ocean away again, as long as we are on our way together.

There is a significant person in my life,
one of which I have no acquaintance, one I do not truly know.
Merely an image my mind refuses to distinguish from the blur.
For even my waking life could not conceive the truth of the night he knew me.

Yet the image still lurks its way into my dreams,
the ones most surreal.
It subsists always in a threatening manner.
The road not to take, the wicked to the just.

It leaves me with no escape in my own world.
I cannot evade myself from this blur for long.
I cannot shake the feeling I felt that fateful morning.
I cannot disregard a loss of innocence in adulthood. An unnatural sensation.

I will never be able to ignore the physical pain I endured.
As much as I cannot see, I feel twice as much.
I could not explain where the pain came from, but I suffered through it days on end.
And the pain in my mind, the one subsiding itself into my head day after day,
nothing will restore the virtue I once held onto.
Nothing will cover my shame.

Years have passed, yet I have come to know,
that time does not heal all wounds.