Stopping the Blade

I remember the times we shared...
In dreams you were real and so beautifully rare
That you took my breath away.

Each touch derived from your felt skin
Your darkened eyes and tender smile.
The warmth of the day's sun in your touch...
Made this pain all worth my while.

Now so far away are we...
Dearest most beloved shadow.
A taste of all that we might come to be
If only four years from now.

Yes...you see, that it is I...
I who have whispered within your ear
I who dreamt of the unspoken times
And I who steals your fear.

........And now as time has passed...
Let us progress to things in their current state.
Your poem...so written with pearl grace.
...My heart has skipped just a beat.
Remember...
Hoping...that you would hear my words...
Hoping you won't turn me away like so many others.
...
In your poem...the blade rang out.
And I wished I could stop it with only a shout.
For screaming I am in my head and through my hand
I want no pain to come to you any more...
Remember...how it used to be...?
Remember...just you and me...

My longing is this...to finish your poem:
With me taking your blade and turning it to ash in my crimson hand.
With my fingertips soothing your wounds...
...And sealing any cuts that bit you when you were not looking.
And with my eyes...
...Showing you the strength that resides therein...to give you hope...and the strength and dignity...to pull through your problems with courage and pride for who you are.

Remember...how it used to be?
Just remember...if only...