It Always Works Out In Dreams.

To wake from sleep, alive from your dream,  
To a whispering man, and not to scream, is nearly an impossible feat.  
This soft whisper, it ruffles your dark hair,  
It blows like a breeze, in the summer night air.  
 
'Don't forget me, please?' it quoted with ease.  
But then the voice got rough.  
On the thirteenth word, of the next line,  
The needed words were tough.  
The voice cracked and got quiet, but never was it silent.  
'I'm not going to deny you the truth,  
And of this I'm sure, I Love You, babygirl,  
See, this place isn't safe, it doesn't approve.  
Sweetheart, you are my world, My world I must save.  
I'll return to you love, that's a secret on my grave.  
I'll always think of you.. my dear..'  
 
With that the whisper leaves, and kisses your black hair,  
Because for all the pain he felt, that's all that he would dare.  
You know who it was,  
You know what this means,  
You can never return, to the land of dreams.  
Your gut gets a clench, your head gets a throb.  
But the tears that are flowing, you don't notice at all.  
 
So you wait and you wait,  
And try not to mind,  
That your whispering prince has left you behind.  
But your mother, she worries, she sees everywhere you go,  
Your mother, she worries, she sees silent tears flow.  
 
You break down in the oddest of places,  
You ache at the familiarity of the strangers' faces.  
You sleep ever rarely, bags under your eyes,  
You sleep never soundly, you sleep with a knife.  
 
You age and you age,  
And 50 years have dragged by,  
But you'd wait 10000 more,  
Just to be by his side.  
You age and you age,  
You fear for his life,  
But you'd wait so many more years,  
Just to be his wife.  
 
You have waited 90 years, and you wait 10 more,  
A horseback riding, wrinkled man, found you near the moor.  
He moved you to your hiding place, of 100 years before.  
He lay you beneath an apple tree, and rested there, by your side.  
A horseback riding, brown eyed man, whispered to you a rhyme.  
A horseback riding, wrinkled man, saved you, just in time.  
 
You napped beneath the apple tree, with blossoms all around,  
He gently kissed your fine white hair, your hair as soft as down.  
 
You rest beneath this tree, knobbed fingers intertwined,  
You rode safely on a long dead horse,  
Into your afterlives.