When does something become more than just a figment of imagination?
Is it when you're not the only one to see them?
Hear them?
Feel them?
Is it when you wake up to them next to you in bed,
Is it when you feel their breath as they lay in your bed?
Outside of your head
They're as real as ever
Realer than her
Who's nothing but a memory
Lost to time
What's yours is mine
Let's cross this line
Tonight
As the stars fall around me they form his frame
I feel my thoughts dissipate
Into open space
As his arms embrace my frame
An imaginary friend I can't control
An imaginary friend that's made himself real
An imaginary friend that's not so imaginary anymore
YOU ARE READING
Bad Poetry for Nobody But Me
PuisiI've been writing more since I stopped talking to everyone so I guess I'll post some here for no one to read. More for safe keeping than anything tho tbh.
