Tag Archives: dreams

Dream Come True

Baby, you don’t know what you do
Every morning waking up next to you
Is a dream come true
Within arms reach
How could a day go wrong?
Your stubble tickling my neck
And your hot breath whispering in my ear
Yet a girl can’t get enough
You got me all wrapped up
Smiling like theres no tomorrow
With kisses as sweet as honey
And eyes like gold
You’re the whole package, baby
My dream come true

© 2017 Jessica Santos

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Hear Us, Love Us, Rescue Me

America’s greatest holiday and he’s away. Away on vacation with a family of his own? Some may consider it as such others call it his duty and right.

Meanwhile, I lie awake at night tossing and turning. I haven’t heard from him and I don’t expect to not for the next few days at least. You see, we’re on a schedule. Only once a week am I graced with his scruffy quiet voice as he whispers into my ear. But that’s only through an earpiece.

Seeing each other would be catastrophic and not for us but for the family who depends on him. The weight of the world is on his shoulders and I wouldn’t wish that feeling on my worst of enemies. It destroys a being, makes them lose their self. The small glimpses I see of him, I see the struggle.

Secretly, he wants to run away to the coast or to the tippy top of a mountain far from the demands of another. But, his knapsack holds him back. It’s filled with the memories and keepsakes of thousands depending on him.

So, he can’t come at my beck and call. He can’t lay by my side at peace. But, together, on opposite sides of the world, we can stare into the sky looking at the same sun, the same moon where I will pray for the slightest ease of pain that he may feel from a blast only feet away. And he will pray for the silence that the world must beg for.

Maybe together, he’ll come home someday.

Until then, I keep the porch light on and the bed warm so that when he does return, he’s more than welcomed to rest his weary spirit.

© 2017 Jessica Santos

The Cross’s Deceit

Her sight blurs
And her balance falters.
Slowly, she sinks to the ground.
“What is happening to me?” she begs,
While a throbbing ache in her side persists.

Throwing the drawer open,
She searches for any blade.
Finding none she grasps a glass jar
And with one great crash
It shatters at her feet.

Slicing her fingers,
She holds an angled peice close to her pride,
Preparing for the first incision.
She gulps down her strength
But the lady walks in.

Calmly, she clears the glass away.
“No dear, that is not your remedy,” she states.
Then, picks her up
And sets her down on the metal table

Fastening her legs upon some stirups
And shoving her on her back,
She chooses a metal probe.
“Now, take a deep breath,” she smiles.

A twinkle flashes into those eyes.
It is hardly noticed
As her legs are instantly parted
And with one fluid movement,
An icy chill rips through her
Snooping over private hills and tiny crevices.

What was left of her precious is lost.
Only a desire to scream pervades;
But, her mouth remains shut.

“Just a little longer,” the lady coos.
(As if she could even be aware of time)
But, just as the wondrous wonder adjusts,
A sharp jab consumates more
Sending a swift reminder.
And, just as it began,
The lady removes her wand.

Words pass through the air
Followed by a torn note.
She crams it into her pocket,
Like the thought of return,
And clumsily walks away
Dripping in red.

The footsteps she leaves are not to be followed;
But, exiting the double doors,
She glances into familiar eyes.

© 2016 Jessica Santos

A Mother Knows

It was the day before her tenth birthday and all the women sat around an old oak table. She listened closely around the corner as they began to mingle and gossip. The oldest talked about the past and hopes for the youth. The youngest shared their pain and hopes for the old.

Story after story was brought up until Mama finally spoke. Her ears strained to listen but she didn’t have to wait long.

“My baby is turning ten tomorrow and it only feels like yesterday I was rocking her to sleep,” Mama said.

“Come now. She’s still your little one,” assured Mama’s sister.

“Yes, but it isn’t long before she goes off to college,” Mama answered with worry in her voice.

“Sshh…child. She takes after her mother and is already following in your foot steps,” Grandmother said softly.

She pulled her ear away and tilted her head. She looked behind her and down at her feet. How did they know she was following Mama’s footsteps? How was that a good thing?

Curious to know the answer, she ran out from her hiding place and into Great Grandmother’s lap.

The little girl looked into each of the women’s eyes and asked, “Why is it a good thing I’m following Mama’s footsteps?”

Great Grandmother chuckled, “Because your mother is a hard worker and has come a long way. She’s doing well for herself. Don’t you want to do well too?”

Squirming under the watch of the women, the little girl nodded her head shyly and probed, “But, why must I follow her footsteps? Why can’t I create my own?”

Shaking her head in good humor, her mother stretched out her hand for her baby. The little girl walked over to her and Mama kissed her atop the head before saying, “She doesn’t mean that you won’t make your own footsteps. You can zig and zag as much as you want. Just don’t forget to come home to these arms, okay?”

The little girl’s eyes shone bright as she nodded her head and kissed Mama on the cheek. But before she ran off, Mama caught a glimpse of the many generations of women in their family and she knew that her baby would be just fine for the years to come.

© 2016 Jessica Santos

Her Little Secret

“Sshh,” she whispered.

Behind her, he paused in the doorway and watched as she bent over her overnight bag whispering softly to it.

He stood there for a bit but eventually shuffled his feet causing the wooden floor boards to creek alerting her to his presence. She hurriedly shut her bag and stowed it away beside his dresser drawer then spun around.

Innocently, she plastered a smile on her face and went to sit on the bed. But, her attempts to draw his attention away failed as he curiously walked over to her things.

He bent down and picked up her bag. He was about to unzip it when she rushed over and took it from him.

With worried eyes, she looked up at him and shook her head hugging her bag close to her heart. He didn’t say anything and instead crawled into bed leaving her to put it back.

When she did, she unzipped it and peered into its contents shaking her head and mumbling under her breath, “No…not tonight, not yet.”

Deciding to give her some privacy and a little bit of trust, he flipped over on his back and shut his eyes. She soon joined him on the bed and shut the light signaling for him to roll over and hold her close.

But, when he did, he felt something small and soft within her arms.

He kissed the back of her neck and whispered softly into the night, “Whose your friend?”

Instantly, he felt her instinctively squeeze whatever it was that she held closer to her. She didn’t say anything and he didn’t push her.

In the morning though, she had flipped over and was resting her head upon his chest with an old stained worn out plush dog resting in her arms. He smiled and chuckled softly to himself before kissing her awake.

She had forgotten about the toy but was soon reminded when he lifted his hand and patted the dog on the head.

Blushing, she hid her face behind her old best friend. But, he gently picked the toy up in his hands and turned it to face her.

Then, softly, he brushed the tip of Snow’s nose along her cheek much like any other dog would.

Years later, as she left the same bedroom one morning with their hungry four year old mutt, he picked up Snow from a chair sitting just within reach. He remembered how she once couldn’t bare to sleep without her and always reminded him of how she always wanted a dog for her own. It was then that she came back into the room and saw her in his hands.

She smiled at her childhood toy and sat beside him on the bed. He instinctively turned Snow to face her and just as he had done the very first day, he brushed her nose along her cheek only this time it was to wipe the tears away.

© 2016 Jessica Santos