A perfect being just to my liking,
The perfect body and mind,
The perfect voice and mentality,
But they've become a bit too real to me,
I can feel them here with me now,
The ghost of their hands holding mine,
But when I open my eyes they aren't,
I know I'm alone here,
They can only exist on paper,
I know this because they aren't real,
They are just images in my head,
Figments of my imagination,
The warmth I feel engulfing me,
The kiss I feel on my lips,
The hand I feel on my cheek,
The faint whisper saying it's alright,
It isnt real at all,
There is no warm kisses and holding,
There is no hand and no whisper,
It's just imaginary and in my head,
But why,
Why do I forget it,
Why do I need it,
Why am I chasing perfection?
(whoooooooo chile not me writing about my strangely strong emotional connection to fictional comfort characters that i date in my dumb brain 24/7)
