peter pan

Peter Pan came looking for me again because he had to tell me he loved me...that he was devoted to me in his heart just like he had been all the times before. Apprehensive to believe him...again...my love for Peter Pan turns my heart into what it always does - a stick of melting butter. But I have wounds, I tell him, wishing he had noticed them first, but I know he knows they've been there ever since the last time he left me crying in the dust. He tells me he is sorry and I believe him not only because there is sorrow in his eyes, but because he begins to prove it. As he kisses my wounds he sews them up with his machine. Peter Pan makes me feel all better - for now. I fall in love with him all over again, plus more than the time before. There is sunshine when he's around and I can't stop touching him...and he can't stop kissing me. Holding hands, we lock fingers, walking side-by-side in the brisk city fall weather. At home he puts me into his bed and purrs me to sleep. But my sweet dreams of Peter Pan always come to an end when I'm startled awake by his nervous energy and greeted by the hollow eyes of a frightened, lost little boy whom I cannot communicate with because I do not know sign language. I am thus forced...again...to watch Peter Pan ride off into his alternative fairyland, as he stains his bike wheels red with my hearts blood he collected in vials when I wasn't looking. He manages to leave me a hand-sewn bag with mace and a pair of shoes because that's what "nice guys" do to alleviate their self-inflicted guilt. One day Peter Pan will realize what he keeps leaving behind because one day I won't be here to find.