The red eye

Tonight I am flying high above you in the stratosphere, staring down at your beautiful slumbering body, trying to know what it is that you dream about. Is it me? It can’t be him, he lies there beside you and we all know that the things that you have are not what you dream about. Is it about that house with a screen door and kids in the yard?
This process is so difficult. I am trying to kill the you inside of me. I am trying to find a way into selective amnesia. To take back all of the bad memories, realizing that certain good ones will have to be sacrificed in the process.
If you were to fly above me tonight, you would realize that the dreams firing between my synapses are of you. Or a vision of you. You the idol that I have created, partially from reality, partially from hope and desire. It is of the house with the screen door and a dusty yard and grass slightly overgrown, and laughter, and love, and sex beyond belief.
In my awaken state I am a killer. I slay the memories at every turn. It is during my sleep that I cannot maintain the slaughter. It is then that you come to me. While I am flying so high above. You meet me in the air. I have nightmares, and pleasant dreams, and the ones of a dirty nature, and the ones of a future forbidden now, possibly never possible to begin with.
I may try to accept you as muse, thus you can stop really existing, because muses don’t really exist. They energize and inspire, but they do not really exist. I am sure that remaining on the pedestal that I put you upon was as hard as it was for me to try to keep you there. No one should marry their muse, even if they really existed, so maybe we are both better off now.
But I know you did exist, and do, somewhere out there in this world tonight. I held you once. You loved me back. We ran our hands over and through each other’s bodies. We ran our thoughts through each other’s mind. We escaped reality for a while, and that is where the danger lived. What we had is not a possibility and it never was. Such a dream cannot exist.
So I fly tonight, sleeping, trying to discern what I have lost, and what was, and what will become of this life now that things will never be the same, as if they ever were.