The Stealer Of Dreams

I stare down at the woman beneath me. Her luminous, almost opalescent skin, now faded to a hollow grey. Her hair fans around her like the halo of a fallen angel. Her once vibrant eyes, now vacant, haunting. The glistening tears that cascade down her cheeks, seem to possess one burning question.

_Why_?

I have taken what isn’t mine. I am a liar, a thief, a tyrant.

For each tremulous, frenzied kiss she gave me, I stole.

Every loaded gaze, I seized.

Every pant, every moan, every whisper of euphoria; I stowed away within myself.

As she built steadily towards her release, my dormant heart began to pound in trepidation, I was almost there. When she finally let go above me; pleasure thundering through her, electrifying her every nerve; that’s when I did it. I took what was mine, I fed my darkness with her light.

In the throes of her ecstasy, I saw it; the predatory darkness; as sinister as smoke, consuming her. I watched, transfixed, gloriously impotent as she wilted. Her fire, fading to tentative embers, then only cinders.

My breath comes in short bursts; my muscles taut and trembling. But even with sweat streaming down my body; I can feel her buttery warmth radiating through me. It fuels me. My whole body bathing in her sunshine. I gasp, almost sedate with the sensation that settles upon me.

The edges of my darkness blur, but only a little bit.

This isn’t a choice. This is how I survive.

I steal. I wait until their light shines the brightest, like a supernova, and then, desperately starved, I pounce and consume.

I can see the hopes and dreams that glitter above people like stardust. I see their essence; the way that some can read a facial expression; I see the wonder that lives within everyone, and I take it for my own.

I am the stealer of dreams.