Protection

"When they catch you, they will kill you. But first they must catch you."

These days I often wake unsure of my surroundings, uncertain of the things I've done in the hours preceding. I often emerge, as if from a hibernation, mind still slicked with sleepy intoxication, limbs clumsy and not yet remembering how to move. I pull myself achingly into the here and now.

It is already too late when I discover there isn't enough time. I am old and I should have just written that book, followed the girl, taken the leap. Instead I did the safe thing, always the safe thing. Until it wasn't safe anymore. And now, now the birds are making their nests in my roof and I have reoccurring dreams of men kicking down my front door. I get myself my own boy-wolf to sleep in my bed for I am certain they are coming for me, it is only a matter of time. 

The morning dawns hazy and golden, the promise of a spring that will never arrive. He kisses my shoulderblade, his pupils pinned. I have earned my disillusionment. 

How did I fall in love with her? Slowly. And then all at once. Is that how I will forget her too? Slowly. And then suddenly? One day where I will wake up and I won't remember the intonation of her voice. Or the half-smirk that got me wet every time. Her silly goat sweater. The way she said my name. 

Today I wake up from a dream of a masked intruder, a gloved hand over my mouth, the abject helplessness of it all, knowing what will happen next. Unsettled and on edge, I bite the sides of my fingers bloody as he crushes the pills and passes them over. "You're okay, you're safe," he reassures me as I feel the familiar bitter dust hit the back of my throat. 

I close my eyes. My thoughts become slow and viscous, I have a difficult time wading through them anymore. 

Tell me about the ocean, I say. Tell me about the sea.