I let myself daydream about you,because daydreams don't hurt.
daydreams about you are like summer thunderstorms and ice cold lemonade.
they are like hot chocolate,a favorite song on the radio
and every smile you've ever known.They are cotton candy and scarlett lipstick,
comprised of airy,fluffy innocence,bubblegum scented and sweet enough for toothaches.
They are silk strands of thoughts braided together to form a safety net within my mind.
Daydreams don't hurt but reality hurts.
Reality is like naked branches clawing at your window and tears freezing on your face.
Reality is an exhausted pyramid made of crumbling brick
and the moist soil around a fresh funeral plot.
Reality is made up of the rusty taste of pennies,
and rain so heavy it sinks right through your skin.
reality is a razor,metallic and merciless.
Reality hurts,and the daydreams are my drugs.
I am an addict,when I close my eyes,I am with you.
sometimes we walk through the woods behind your house,
losing ourselves in the trees and in each other.
the air smells like maple syrup and crackles with the threat of snow,
but we balance on the train tracks, holding hands,
and catch the flakes on our tongues,kissing mother nature.
other times,it is flashes of us being domestic and making pancakes in your kitchen;
I peel the fruit and you pour the batter and we sing along with the radio as it rains.
We adjust to each other,and toast ourselves with glasses of
apple juice when we sit down to enjoy our meal.
Then you lean over and use your thumb to whisk away a stripe of pancake batter,
and look into my eyes and I know that you love me.
In my head, we go Idd shopping in the mall,
trying on ridiculous hats and people watching in the food court.
we go to a new party, all dressed up in black and glitter,
taking delicate sips of champagne.........
I daydream about an apartment in the city,I daydream about dance clubs,
the music pulsing like a heartbeat and the lights shifting like a kalidescope.
I daydream about walking through sand that looks like sugar,
swimming in water that looks like glass.I daydream about the cultured,
classy restaurants and exotic, bustling asian cities.
I daydream about wrinkled hands and rocking chairs and toothless smiles.
but even all of these dripping,aching daydreams don't compare to the feeling
I get when you hold me,because when you hold me,touching me like I am crystal,
diamond, precious, I feel at home, a rare and delicious sensation for me.
so now, maybe we won't fulfill all my daydreams.
maybe we won't visit China or Europe or have three little children
or say the words I do.but as long as I am with you,it doesn't even matter,
because daydreams are not wishes;
they are just a hobby to blunt reality and bide time until
I can see you and feel everything I've always wanted to feel
