Dreams.
I used to have them—before the nightmares
started.
I dreamed of nice guys, love…normalcy.
Things like reading the Sunday paper in
bed with my
lover.
But who needs dreams when your reality is
filled with a string of faceless dominating men in uniform? Men that pack a
thick bulge and are only too happy to satisfy my deviant sexual cravings.
Me. That's who.
And then HE walked through the door and
shared with me, a total stranger, his intimate dream of love. Damn him for
verbalizing every single detail of the dream I buried long ago.
And now I don’t know how I'm going to
live without that dream.
Or him.
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