In my dreams, you’re a hero.

The man who pulled

his friends from a burning vehicle.

The one who couldn’t turn a blind eye.

In my dreams, you’re a protector.

The man who made me tell him

just how awful my boyfriend really was.

The one who sought vengeance in my honor.

In my dreams, you’re an adventurer.

The man who traveled the world

making friends wherever you went.

The one who attracted people like bugs to light.

In my dreams, you are that light.

The man who lit up a room

by gracing it with your presence.

The one who brought life into our family’s heart.

In my dreams, you are alive.

The man who promised

to me that God didn’t want you.

The one who swore he’d be okay no matter what.

In reality, you’re a villain.

The man who prowled the streets

in the dead of night, searching for a fix.

The one who didn’t care who got in his way.

In reality, you’re the aggressor.

The man who demanded I tell him

where our mother had thrown away his poison.

The one who threatened suicide in front of me.

In reality, you’re a settler.

The man rooted so deeply in a

single substance you cared of nothing else.

The one who sunk into it like it was quicksand.

In reality, you’re darkness.

The man who cast a shadow

over his family with a single syringe.

The one who cast us in endless oblivion.

In reality, you’re dead.

Is it any wonder I’d rather be asleep?