Phantom Love

Warmth. That's what I feel. A bit of warmth by my side that holds me tenderly while I juggle these thoughts in my head, thoughts of you, and thoughts of her. Being sent here, or, well, taken from my home, lying next to you in a few years, you replacing her back home, a place I used to know down by the River-a-ssippi; you made me better than I was before. Hooves wrapped around my bare chest—you like it like that—your soft purrs as you snuggle into me more, thinking of me like that big ol' pillow at night, rustlin' against that human of yours.

And yet clashing is her face, her from home. Blonde hair, kissable lips, a smile of highs that told me of pleasure both in and out of the bedroom… What a temptress, my temptress. She had that groove when she stepped into the room, that hip swing that made the engraving of her body last in my mind forever. I could not keep my eyes off her, she made fantasy a reality, a reality far gone.

The spine-tingling reflection keeps me at bay. I want to hold you, the you next to me closer, but that mind of mine wants to run, run far away from this being that replaces her. But she can't be you. She can't be you.

Quick, stop dancing around. My mind dances while you murmur in your sleep. You mention my name with a silky smooth tone of your voice which makes my heart melt and my knees liquefy on the satin bed sheets. Despite this love of you my eyes go adrift, looking at you, then back at the image in the corner—she stands ghostly in the shadows of the dark—then at the pictures of us—she smiles gracefully with that blonde hair dangling just past her shoulders—before staring at the ceiling, groaning sharply.

Fists make their marks against the sheets, sinking deeper into the fabric of reality—a new one filled with life from a realm of fantasy. The blend scares me, knowing that I'm crossing over, so to say. I see a blend of the past, little inklings of her in you, and then I see the friends you made, similar to the friends of a past time too. It scares me. I sometimes tremble when I'm near them. But then you come and nuzzle me back together from all these messed up pieces that I am. You keep me standing tall instead of falling like a poorly built Jenga tower.

The cracks in the ceiling tell me a story similar to myself. Back when I was fourteen, I watched those cracks march across the plains of white plaster, traveling down the road of Broken to turn right on the avenue of Removal. Sometimes I took a rather speedy exit onto highway Seventy-Two, reminding me of an age buried beneath the soil for which my rock was built on. It was only a chance that happened, when my mind reflected on how I sat at his house, watching old Western shooter-ups on the tele, scoping out those blasted varmints with their tails wrapped between those retreating legs, each man's spurs clacking as they hobbled down the old American West.

Sometimes I feel that way too. I feel like a desert being trampled on by some different kind of varmints. And then there's you. And then there's her. And then I think of you and her and I, and then I'm back at square one as you nuzzle me again. You wish I would stop moving, but the guilty only asks to be alone, shifting from the people they care about in order to hide their insignificant shame. For me, I am hiding my shame of being a doormat, but the borders of the bed are limiting me in my quest. One more shift and I'm going to fly right off, away from you. The floor will creak as I hit the ground, the thud echoing right in those white ears of yours. You'll pop off that pillow faster than any woman I knew, and you would bolster out a "Oh my CELESTIA!" before sliding off that mattress and aiding me in my misadventure. Of course, who am I kidding? Aiding to you is like a lecture to me: I am a child whose knee is scrapped and instead of administering aid to the proper place, I get shackled by the one who wishes to aid me.

I sigh. Maybe I should give into you. Maybe I should let this puzzle be unsolved and just snuggle my way into this permanent stay on the planet Equis. And yet I want to hold onto her too. I want her to not forget me, to not forget our times together, to not let my family go, to not let us go into an ether filled with nothing but dread and despair. I imagine tears rolling down that fair skin of hers. I imagine the shrill cries of my mother, and my father's sad gaze addressing the already crystal clear fact that I'm gone. Long, long gone.

You, the mare beside me, purrs once again, before those eyes begin to show.

"Darling…" your voice oh-so-meanders over. "Why are you moving away?"

I smile at your tired haze. Eyelids crooked open with a slight crinkle on each. A slight dampened mark by your mouth suggests a bit of drool. I am surprised I do not feel a bit of drool on me, but maybe that fur of yours soaks up the liquid like a sponge under the sea. I shake my head and cup your cheek.

"It's nothing, dear," I say, smiling through my pearly whites. "Don't fret."

Adding that makes you open your mouth once more. "Then stay near me," you murmur, your eyes fluttering to a close.

You breathe deep into my side, your breath tickling the hairs on my body. I hold onto you, staying near as you proposed, but my mind is still so far away. I should just tell you that I am not okay, that I am still juggling this whole Earth to Equis thing. But, maybe I shouldn't. I would just be lying to you again. It wouldn't be the truth, what I really feel right now.

So I stay here, awake, holding on desperately to that bit of warmth that I love so dearly.