caught in an old dream

his eyes were blue this time.
i don’t think his eyes are blue,
i think they’re grey,
but i could be wrong about that.

he put his arm around my waist,
i did the same
i can still feel the heat that
transferred itself from his lower back to
my arm, and from his arm to my
lower back (i’m still starved for warmth)

i can still feel that aching flutter,
tucked away somewhere deep inside
that i’ve never quite allowed to
fade away in all these years

she was there, too.
i haven’t seen her in so long i’ve
almost forgotten (not that i’m capable
of forgetting, there isn’t enough time
in the world for me to forget)

she was in my way again,
blocking me from sitting next to him,
because that’s the role she always chose
to play, the thorn in my side,
the sting in my eyes

but this time, he moved.
he got up, all of his own will,
and sat next to me,
chose my quiet adoration over her
sting and spite and gossip

i asked where he was going to school
and although i can remember some of the answer,
it’s conveniently not enough to
check up on, because my mind likes
to create mysteries i could never solve,
stories without endings

he was beautiful this time (as though
there’s ever a time, real or
imagined, where he isn’t)

i won’t say i love him, because
that isn’t true
i’m in love with a ghost,
i’m in love with a myth,
i’m in love with a being
of my own creation
i’m in love with a dream

the person he really is
i’ve never had the
chance to know, so i
fill in the gaps,
dream in the details