The Stuff that Dreams are made of

Dark Angel

Annette Gisby

Does the dark scare you? Do you fear it?

I fear it, I've always feared it, but I yearn for it too.

It's only in the dark he comes to me, my dark angel.

It's only in the dark, he can touch me, he can make me his.

I yearn for him, for his touches, his caresses, his darkness.

It's only in the darkness of my dreams that he touches me.

I wake, disappointed that my dark angel isn't here with me.

I want to be in the dark with him.

But I have nightmares too.

That he isn't in the dark at all, but somewhere full of bright, white,
light that leaves him screaming and calling my name.

I try to answer, but no sound emerges and I wake, lying on an empty bed.

His bed.

My own has no comfort to offer me, it feels bare, barren.

I want my dark angel to hold me, to tell me everything is going to be all right, even if it isn't.

I need the reassurance of his arms around me, to hear him breathing next to me, to know he's okay.

But I won't know. I'll never know.

My dark angel has flown away, somewhere I can't follow.