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~I have dreamed
That your arms are lovely.
I have dreamed
What a joy you'd be.
I have dreamed
Every word you'd whisper
When you're close, close to me.~
I shouldn't be thinking about you. It's silly. You're far too young for me. Five years can be
a lifetime. That's what my advisors say, anyway. I don't know if I believe them. You have an
old soul.
And you've faced so much! You try hard to keep it all away from everyone else, so hard not to
let your pain spill over, but when you're not busy trying to make everyone else smile, I
sometimes catch a glimpse of sadness in those beautiful blue eyes. Ever since your mother died,
the darkness seems to hover close to you, threatening to overwhelm your innocence. I hope it
never does.
But even in your darkest moment, Ani, there is a light inside you. I think it's that light that
makes me . . . No, I won't say that yet. It's too soon. Sometimes I catch myself staring into
space and thinking about you when I should be reading a financial report. I think about what it
would be like to feel your arms around me, to kiss you. Even in my dreams, it's powerful. I've
never been kissed. Twenty-four years old and I've never so much has been on a date, unless one
counts a few thousand dull reception dinners as dates. I certainly don't. My life has been
lived for my people.
I want to live for myself for awhile. I want to live for something more than just me, actually.
I want to live for us. I just don't know how.
~How you look
In the glow of evening
I have dreamed
And enjoyed the view.
In these dreams I've loved you so
That by now I think I'd know
What it's like to be loved by you.
I will loved being loved by you.~
Have any of those rich diplomats who are always flocking around you ever told you how beautiful
you are? You are, you know. More than beautiful. Every time I see you, even if it's only on
the holonews, you take my breath away. I asked you once if you were an angel. I still think
you are. My exquisite angel.
I can't count how many nights I've passed wondering where you are, what you're doing. I'd find
it fascinating to listen to you talking about anything at all. You could explain how grass
grows, and I would be enthralled.
I think about you a lot. Maybe I should try to stop, but I don't want to. Thinking about you
makes me happy. No matter how down I get, all I have to do is imagine you standing in front of
me smiling, those gorgeous brown eyes so warm. And inviting? I never know. I think sometimes
you think of me more as your kid brother than as a potential lover. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe
brushing my hair out of my eyes and putting blankets over me when I go to sleep is the only way
you can find to show your affection. Sometimes I don't know how to either.
But soon I'll be brave enough to tell you how I feel. Then... I will hold you. Hold you like I
did in my dreams. It won't be a dream anymore.