I know you’re not real
But I’d like to believe you exist out here in this great wide world, somewhere. Maybe you’re the every other person that’s walking down the street. Maybe you have a billion eyes of all colors.
The howling of the wind is a song
Written and sung by you
For me to hear– it plays with me
Near my ears
It plays with my hairs
It feels like your finger prints. They’re so different from mine; your fingers are pristine, long, and callous. I hold them between my hands and place them over my face. Feel me, feel my eyes,
my nose and my lips.
Hold me, and take me to the space with you.
Make the stars dance to a tune
That you’ve written
Take me on a ride in your dreams
We’ll explore the great wide unknown
Moon to moon, star to star
I’ll listen to every word you have to say, I’ll look at every little thing you point at
You are a mystery to me
And all these little matters stack together and create you;
I pause and assess each one
I hope you believe me when I say that I’m not so dumb
But around you I’m a mute
I think this is forever, don’t you think so too? When you find something to be fixated in?
Like the lines through your face
The scars that tell a story
I could read them on and on and over and over
In circles, sideways, and forever
Here in the dark
Just if you don’t move
You just smile, and it cracks a secret code
That you’ve created for me to unlock
We kiss; wondering if this is real
Believing in our existence
Feeling our leathery skins
You’re so soft when I touch you
I wonder if you think the same when you touch me too
We are on the same page; the same musical notes on a staff
The same frequency of the waves that surround us and flow in and out of us
We’re made of all the little pieces of dust that make the whole universe
The bumps on your skin
The feel of veins on your wrists
Your soft lips
The curvature between your cheekbone and the side of your face
The hollows of your eyes
The bristles of fine hair
In the landscape of your nape
The burden on your shoulders
I hold your hands before me
The scent of your efforts and heartbreaks
I reach for your lips; forgive me for being so forefront
Forgive me for not stopping
Forgive me for being so hasty
For being so slow
For all things that I can’t provide, and for the little that I can
I want to give you everything
I don’t want to wake up tomorrow and ever miss this
I don’t ever want to leave this
I’m just afraid that I might lose this
The physical world, or subconsciousness?
This is how I look at my worst, and I could show you how I look at my best
But for some reason I want to stop right here,
Because I want you to only love me at my worst
Because it feels the most real
“Did you write this?” She asked him directly. In a surge of embarrassment, he walked away with a flushed face. She picked up her pace to match his quick steps. She touched his shoulder from behind and he shivered as he stopped. He placed his palms over his eyes. He wanted to disappear from the face of the earth.
“Why don’t you admit it?” She walked in front of him and drew his hands away. She looked at him. He looked at the ground.
“I’m sorry” he mumbled through clenched jaw. His breath left a trail of fog in the cold weather. His cheekbones were pink and his dark hair had subtle brown highlights that stood out against the snow filled background.
In a burst of anger she threw the secret love letter that she had found, at his face. He had written it for her, but had never intended for her to find out. He grimaced with pain inside as it brushed against his skin.
“Why didn’t you utter a word? Why were you so reserved all this time? Why did you pretend that you never cared?”
He was silent.
“Why don’t you look me in the eye? Why do you leave when I walk in? Why did you ignore me for so long? How could you deny that I had wanted you too? You’ve ruined my life!”
“I didn’t mean to” he said, “I didn’t want to hurt you. I never wanted you to find out, I didn’t want my feelings for you to ever end.”
“I don’t understand! Why couldn’t we be together? Why couldn’t we have gotten to know each other better? Lived happily ever after? You see, everything’s messed up now. I can never wake up and face the day without sensing that something is missing. I can never not think… about this, about you, about what you did! I’m forever trapped” she continued, “Because now it’s too late. I’m obligated to the future. I’m bound by societal rules and plans that have been made for me. I’m fixed into settling down and having a family with someone else” she placed her hands over her face and cried, “I can never be happy.”
He tried to touch her hand but she brushed it away. “Because of you!” she said through her teeth and with teary eyes, “Why didn’t you tell me all this when you could have? Three years of acquaintance and not a single word of truth from you! Why didn’t you tell me all this before I found someone else? It’s too late now. I could have been with you. My life’s an empty, meaningless, waste of time.”
“You’ll move on… eventually” he said.
“I’ll never move on. I’ll always be in love with you and never be able to be with you. I hate you because of that. It’s all your doing. You’ve played a game with my heart.”
“I promise you, that I didn’t mean to…”
“You’re admitting that it’s a game?”
“I suppose l…” he could barely say the word, “I suppose love is a game.”
“Then it isn’t true, is it? It’s not real, it’s just make-believe, like a game!”
“Can’t a game be for real? I engaged in it with all my heart, and I almost died because of it.”
“You can’t expect a game to last forever.”
“What meaning does forever carry?”
“What meaning does a moment carry?”
“Sometimes, it carries great depth.”
“Can’t a forever bond have depth too?”
“Then it wouldn’t have the length.”
“But momentary encounters are so sporadic, temporary, and heartbreaking. You’re left with shattered, empty, non-existent memories.”
“Are memories non-existent? Were all those feelings that once made your heart swoon, unreal? Are encounters make-believe? If so, is depth unreal?”
“Yes. The only thing that’s real is a forever and ongoing bond through time.”
“I wish that for you. I want you to feel, taste, and live in what’s real.”
“But I’m not happy in reality.”
“Then you’ll have to deal with heart-breaking encounters” he said as he kissed her. Soft snowflakes fell over them in their silent surrounding. They embraced for however long, before reality drifted them apart.
How real is this fact
That I’m out here, able and intact
Underneath shelters and shelters of
Clothes, blankets and thick walls
Preserved in like a specimen
Segregated and closed off in a pitch black cellular chamber
That’s silent, faraway, and forgotten
Awake, with a buried heart that wonders
Whether there’s a man in a forest
Who could hear
The only thing that’s real is
my body onto yours, bound together, deeply lost
in some mist.
Everything else is made up,
nothing else matters, nor exists.