Burning Solitude
It was only a dream. A dream which means nothing. He looked to the side, his lovers face relaxed in sleep. A hand ghosts down to touch the side of his face as the dream floods back.
He walks alone, among unending fields. He knows that ahead his love is waiting there with open arms, but how far ahead? How far does he have to travel to find them? The heat is unbearable as the sun shines down, the grass razor sharp as he trudges through it. It is then that he realises that his love is lay at his feet.
Carefully he lowers himself, searching that face for any sign of movement, yet there is none. No pulse, no heartbeat, no life whist he remains full of it, forced to live on. He slowly pushes his own lips against that of his love and he feels them burn, burn in the loneliness that solitude creates.
He feels his lover stir in his sleep and he breathes a sigh of relief. The future may bring the burning solitude. Yet he knows, that right here, his love is waiting, he no longer has to search.