Love letter # 417
My love for you is almost entirely imagined. It exists in the velvety realm between fantasy and despair. Silly ideas and simple facts. It brings them together. Tears them apart.
And who knows what else?
Because you sure haven’t noticed. Maybe I am someone who simply flickers into your attention from time to time. Not worthy of closer observation. Allowed to pass.
But I can see right through the auto-pilot. See who you are. Much softer than you like to pretend. Someone imbued with real warmth – but maybe a little scared. And bruised, of course.
Perhaps one day you will stop – and there will be that moment and we will both know.
Until then I shall render the entire scene in daydream. Over and over until it comes out just right.