Musings and Tidbits

to my faceless lover

I've dreamt of you. It was a strange dream, I must admit.

You were looking at me. I was looking at you. You laughed like a hyena. I playfully punched you in the shoulder. We were happy, I think. Well, happy in the sense of novelty. Happy as if we were opening a present together, unraveling a ribbon and tearing away wrapping paper. You hugged me. I hugged you back. There were butterflies in my stomach. Dawn streamed in through a window somewhere, and I realized you were in my house.

How? Where did you come from? And who were you? You did not look like anyone I knew.

What I did know, immediately even, is that I loved you.

And then I woke up. And it was excruciating having to spend the rest of my day in love with a figment of my imagination. Pretending that I was okay.

I suppose when you love an idea, you lose reality. After all, what is your frame of reference anymore? There is nothing in the physical world to check yourself, and you begin to see everything with a filter. When you love an idea, you cannot love a person. And everyone I see cannot hold a candle to the fire you've set ablaze in my heart.

And so I bid you goodbye, strange lover. I hope I meet you one day, but for now, I leave you behind. Please, stay a memory, in the past. Please, leave me alone.