This morning I awoke to a searing pain in my head and the fresh sting of a bad dream in my stomach. Yet again i dreamt of him. The same context but in a different time perhaps. He was sitting at an old wooden bar, staring down into his glass. Amber liquid swirled around transparent ice. The smell of stale cigarettes hung in the air like an ever present reminder of a bad night out. I sat down beside him and snaked an arm into his.
  ”You look so lonely tonight…” I whispered. “You cant be here alone darling…there must be someone.”

He only smiled sadly down into his glass and laid a strong hand atop mine. I knew he was there alone. It baffled me to think that a man like him had likely spent so many nights alone in that stagnant old bar with only the cold breeze to keep him company. I stood up and stole my arm away, resting my head on his shoulder. 

  “Come home with me. I’ll make you some tea and whiskey, we can lie in bed and wonder about all the great mysteries of the stars and the moon… please.” I murmured, pressing my lips to the nape of his neck. 

He stood up and turned to face me, slinking arms around me and his fingers to tangle into mine. It took us no time of walking, drunk and dizzy through the alleyways to reach my apartment. it was quiet and dark. I had no recollection of where anyone else was but there we were, in the blink of an eye, stretched out taught on my couch. his skin was so soft below that uniform, unlike what you would expect it to be. It was creamy white and felt like silk. There were no scars from battle, no coarse, ugly carpets of blonde or black. He was made of sinew and marble skin.

He was horrible in those moments, ravenous and insatiable. His teeth left stinging welts and my hands responded with muscle bruising blows. we were nothing if not fluid, statues brought to life to play out the same stories that were told to young lovers over and over again.