Here you are; entirely perfect and entirely unsuitable if you were physically real. Right now, you’re a figment only. A dream; a thought that is pleasant because it doesn’t have to be exposed as truth.
Right now, you’re a lovely apparition in my bed, in my head.
They are your lips pressed against mine late at night when I rest on my pillow. They are your fingers pressing lightly into my scalp displacing my hair as they move.
You’re the heavy weight lying next to me and the rhythmic inhale and exhale sounds that send me to sleep, peacefully.
When I wake, you’re the empty, cold place in my bed and the thought that occupies all of my head. You’re the silence between my own breaths and the pulse between my legs. You’re the stillness in the air and then…the tone that plays on my phone.
There you are: real enough in a digital display. Maybe I should leave you there. Imagined, perfectly. Maybe you’re so perfect because I can’t have you.