I think of her as I drift away to sleep, with her long, black hair always in a ponytail, with a few whisping, ghostly greys coming in.
I think of her soft and plump body, round belly and thick thighs and heavy breasts, her khaki shorts and black shirt of her waitress uniform.
I think of her smile, and soft voice, and bright eyes beneath thick glasses, and how she makes my belly flutter, and a sweet tenderness rekindle in me.
Barmaid royalty, I hold onto these things, these sweet and fine feelings, the softness returned to my heart, the love for another, even if unrequited.
The demons have been winning for so long, making me bitter and mean, so like them, but passing moments in a crowded bar brought me back to light.
I think of her, and hope I dream of her and all her angels, all her kindness, and not of my own broken flesh, or the perdition I fear is to come.
I hope love can save me.