He Was and He Is

He Is and He was

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In another place, in another time, he was and he is. He had a scar in his face; he has a scar in his heart. He is wielding a gun that locked and chained him to his past; he was wielding a gun but not really a gun-more like a blade that was from his past.

He was and he is two men from my childhood dreams, both too different and too similar with each other.

In another place, in another time, when the skies are nothing but black, when I thought that I was older when I was young, when I thought that my real world was nothing but a horrid dream, when he had chestnut hair and magnificent hazel eyes, when he said that we may never meet again, but we'll never forget each other...

I woke up to the sound of crackling firewood and there he was, sitting just a few feet from my sleeping bag, the colours of the campfire and the silver (blade...? nope, it's a gun.) he was polishing reflected in his eyes (his crimson eyes, not hazel.).

In that place, in that time, when the skies are lit up with the danger of a burning rock, when I was forced to grow up on my own, when my real world was a horrid dream, when he has hair like the colour of the night and magnificent blood-like eyes, when he was wondering if it is better to escape from a world of illusions...

In that moment, I pinched myself just to make sure that everything was not make-believe...again.