I Had a Dream

I had a dream…A psychic surgeon stuck his moldy, creamy hand into my chest and pulled out my bleeding heart. She stroked the stream of beating pulses and read the rhythms of my soul, the emotions that broke the core of my being, the heartbreak of losing my life’s love. I dreamt in the corners of the bed sheets, where the perspiration from my aching loss was left on the pillow and on the soles of my feet. I reached out to the softness of the night and saw an eye staring down at me, calling to me to touch his skin and kiss his mouth. The shaman bit my neck and drank my blood and poured it into a wine glass, handed it to my mysterious lover to drink. Lips moved and the walls vibrated with his gulps and orgasmic laughter. Again, the hurt of his vanishing, his abandonment, his lost fingers and tongue that licked me in the middle of the night were gone. I shriveled up, old and longing to be given this elixir, I needed him so much, and dreaded that only his whisper would awaken me to life again. I had a dream...that I was wrapped in ecstasy around legs of steel, I touched his back and felt the burden I was to him, because I needed his love more than I needed my own heart.