The Woman I Seek

There's this woman.

She stands tall and elegant in a gown of white. The air around her sparkles and shines. The light around her comes from her. She is graceful. She is beautiful. She takes my breath away.

I reach for her but I recoil when I see my own hands. They're dark and dirty. It seems like they are absorbing all light, as if my hands were black holes. They're covered in scars and dried blood that flakes away as I open and close my fingers...they won't open all the way. It hurts too much.

I look up and see her again, the woman. And I scream. My voice is broken and my lungs burn. Still she does not see me. I want her. I need her. I need her to love me, to wipe away the dirt and the blood. To heal the scars, to heal my lungs. To fix me. To save me. To love me.

So I scream and I cry and I reach for her through the darkness. My lungs ache, my scars bleed again, my sight grows dim but I do not stop. She must see me, she has to. I want her. I need her. I need her to love me. To wipe away the dirt and the blood. To heal the scars. To heal my lungs. To fix me. To save me. To love me.