Remembering

I woke up with the dream still under my skin. Jealousy hot in my veins. I loved him again, last night. So much, it was like at first. The way we were at first. When his smell, his touch, everything drove me mad. We had to sleep close, wrapped up in each other, as tight as we could. Until death do us part. It wasn't death though. It was drugs. For him, jail. His hands swollen and bleeding. His eyes weren't his any more, and face, gone. The baby face cracked away, a mask, a skeleton of lies fidgeted in its place. The big brown eyes I would have done anything for, different, terrifying.
I'd said we wouldn't get addicted. It turns out that he was right to be afraid. I should never have laughed. He knew himself better than I did.
But in just one dream, the resent, the calculated void, those feelings were flipped. Asleep, I let myself think about him, for the first time, not shake it off, or change the channel. And all I wanted, craved, was him back beside me, eyes and all. And to know if he made it. If he's still alive. If he's beautiful again.
I really, really hope so.