You.

You were in my dreams again last night. I was dressed in blue and you wanted to spend time around me. I can never quite tell if it's better or worse for me that you care about me so much in my imagination; I've never been that good at decieving myself before, I don't know why this is so different. You make me feel safe and so very frightened at the same time. I lose myself for moments in your soulful eyes and I beg to know what you're thinking of me, but you'd never say, and would I even want to hear the answer? According to my subconcious, I make you happy. Your eyes crease and smile appears and you ask me questions as if you're genuinely interested in the answer. In my mind, it isn't entirely unrequited; I never knew my imagination was so creative. Do you know that when you're not around, I miss you? In some ways, I want to sleep, because I always dream, and you are always, always there. Weeks it's been, since you were missing from my mind. But I am always overtired; there's never a peaceful night. A part of me acknowledges that I live for that. But it'd be nice not to wake up disillusioned that reality will never match my mind's masterpieces.



You were in my dreams again last night. And I awoke to reality with a rushing heart and that familiar sense of loss, again, without you.