I know you’re real, but you have imagination stains all over your face. I’ve filled up all the gaps with cotton candy, and fell in love with a man who brings me poetry and mystery and desire. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted from you. I just wish I could be sure that it’s you.
I’m trying, I’m trying so hard to let you shine through. I do my best to listen to you, to feel the taste of your every word, your every experience, your every state of mind. I’m just overly excited at the possibility of having found someone beautiful that I’m afraid I also made up miles of you.
There are times when I’m not sure how much of you is really you and how much is me. I finally understand the vampire myths. You want to suck on beauty, on youth, on love. On life. You’re terrified they won’t come to you, so you try to take them when they aren’t looking.