Stained Memories

We dream of fairytales. We dream of Prince Charming. We dream of kids and white picket fences and welcoming houses. We dream. But I find these dreams always have one thing in common; time. They all require a lifetime. We dream of endless weeks basking under sunsets with our one true love. We dream of growing old together. All these dreams lead to a timely commitment. But what happens when we have one perfect night? When we have seven hours of true happiness? Why don't we ever dream about that? Do humans crave commitment? Or are we scared by it? I used to beg for more of those perfect nights with the perfect guy - but every day afterward never lived up to the first time. The first night. Those first seven hours. The passion flashed lightning. The lust fell like rain. And the night cowered above, stars tangled in clouds. When everything feels so right should we just let the moment be and move on? Or should we try to repeat it? Can the flame last forever or is the night's gusting wind simply too powerful? Can the coals be ignited after they've already diminished? I believe its more realistic to dream of these perfect nights. We may never have a lifetime of love and dedication, but those spontaneous nights are worth it. He may never call again. He may never see me after. He may forget my name. But in both our minds that night is stained; the memory replaying. And sometimes thats enough.