Life in the Age of Byrony

I'm standing behind her.
She's facing a mirror.

I'm cupping her breasts in my hands.
A scene, an image, I remember perfectly.
She's laughing and not believing how beautiful I think she is.

I'm soaking in how gorgeous she is.
More than that...the feelings are as they were.
Before the pain. Before the scar tissue.
Before the new and old pain and the angst combined into a monstrous entity so powerful it drove me past the point of no return.

I wake up.
Again.

I'm confused in the dark. Parts of the room come into focus.
It's the future.
The past days of my present melt away wordlessly.

I'm afraid to look at the clock and see the date.
I get high and close my eyes.
I fall asleep with her image emblazoned into my mind's eye.