Hi Stephanie Faith-Anne Nash. It’s me, Aaron, and if you are reading this, it is because I woke up again. Not this morning. But right now. And while I am awake I want to put my feelings for you into words that I know will grow blurrier as tears well up in my eyes at the thought of how beautiful you are, how pure of heart you are, how deserving you are of someone better than me. Someone who is not always falling back asleep after waking up.
Remember the dream I told you about?
A girl with locks of pink hair crowning her head like flames was standing in a white room, looking at me with eyes that could stop wars if they appeared in the skies and blinked into silence the battles below. She kept looking at me until her voice, hushed and sweet as rain on a veldt of clover, filled my head.
Awake, she said, I am here.
It was a dream dreamt fifteen years before we met. But love is a timeless trestle, spanning every divide, and when I needed you most you appeared, a dream come verily true, your hair shorn and pink, your eyes above the battle, your voice of rain and clover.
Awake, you said, I am here.
It has been eight years of me waking to the celestial beam of your beauty, to your fire still burning, to your cloudless morning, to your voice of rain and clover.
And soon I will shake my slumber.