When from across the dimly lit up room
I saw the neon sparkle in your eye,
I drew to you as tides draw to the moon:
so enraptured, I wished to touch the sky.
The blinding lights that framed your messy hair
twirled faster than the windstorm in my brain
and you just sat in silence, unaware
that your bright neon glance could ease my pain.
As if entranced I float across the floor,
my feet controlled by some stranger above
whose idle, tired life became a bore
exhausted by his own lacking of love.
And so, by some great miracle, it seems
my dream boy is now more than just a dream.
