You don't exist.
You're a figment of my imagination. A person that lives in the stories I've created in my mind.
You're a person from the future I want; a person I hope to meet, to have and hold, love and cherish.
But the problem with hoping, and wanting and waiting, is that you might not be real.
There might never be a day when I meet you; a day when we get to do the things I always hoped we would. I might never see that smile I dreamed about or hear your voice and your laughter. I might never feel the warmth of you in my arms, or your soft lift pressed on mine.
You might not even exist, and that scares me. It scares me so much that I've not met you and might never get the chance to.
And yet I already know that I don't ever want to lose you.
YOU ARE READING
Thoughts from my brain
PoesiaIt's poetic, in a way. This is a mixture of poems and short passages. I'm writing these for myself, I guess, as a way to collect my thought, but I hope you enjoy the little pieces of me you read.
