I fantasize for a cottage on the side of a warm, sunlit path with rocky cobble and gravel lining the way. A windowsill covered in sparkling rocks and gently swaying flowers. A lilypad-filled pond for ducks with velvet feathers. I fantasize for buttered bread that melts in your mouth but doesn't crumble in your hands; I fantasize for cotton gowns that have lace down at my knees. The way the wind blows through the long grass I used to be scared of, like my father warned me to be. My hands soft and cold from the dip and ripple they make in simple creeks with silver fish small enough to slip through my fingers; the taste of sweet lemons sprinkled with borrowed sugar. I fantasize for long hair that curls daintily at the tips, tied back with a gold clip or bow. I fantasize for homemade cookies and scones, white leather heels I won't wobble in, glass chess sets that reflect colors around my cluttered kitchen. But I fantasize truly for the way she looks at me with her curved lips and twinkling, bronze eyes. The freckles from lazy days in the sun trace constellations on her cheeks, her brow, her lips: she's my Cassiopeia, my little dipper. I fantasize for her love, her comfort, our home. I fantasize for her. For us.

Echoes in the night keep us awake

Shushed and told to sleep

But little children don’t listen

Our footsteps ring through the halls as we run

Huge and frightening

The house lurks in a new way

It no longer feels empty

Whispers of love and promises filling our ears

As we attempt to get out

To escape the never ending screams

No one else can hear them

Repeating in our minds over and over

Until the world falls apart

Doors slam and lock

Knobs rusting shut

Windows snapping in place

Keys breaking at sight

Screams and secrets echoing

Through the empty, forgotten halls

Trapping new souls

To haunt those who dare step in the house of voices and whispers

Red splatter on the walls

Its jam, that's it

A lump on the floor

A fallen oven mitt

Nothing is as it seems

It's nothing scary

Only creamy and cocoa

Not big nor hairy

I regret not walking you home that night. I regret our fight, your tears, and the phone I left on silent. If only I had cared enough to shut out my own emotions for yours. If only I had taken the bottle out of your hands sooner. I don't regret meeting you. Or falling in love with you. They were the best years of my life. I simply regret myself. And having to make you burden my pain. I wish you were still here, even if it isn't with me. And most of all, I wish I could fix my regrets.