I had forgotten the excitement I feel whenever we kiss. The quivering lips: Were they hers or mine? It did not matter, because they signal the pent up passion, the fear that this might be the last time where the joy of being with her encompasses every cell within my body. Her sigh when we break that delicate connection echoes what I feel but do not say.
This place we have chosen to be together for tonight is the perfect place, but not a place I recall ever having been before. It reminds me of the image of the house she created in my mind long ago when she asked me to take her away from the turmoil that surrounded us, and live in a place full of peace, and love, and not despair.
Gossamer is her appearance as she walks away from me, and I cringe as her image slowly dissolves, replaced by the cold, wet, stone wall of my cell. It was but a dream, My recurring dream of what could have been had I listened.
I did not, and because of that error she exists in this world no longer. So when they execute me tomorrow, all I can hope is that this dream is my future after death, and not just the road I should have taken in my past.