He’s just a dream,
who keeps me alive.
He colours my dark hours,
paints my world
with black-edged hearts.
He mispronounces my name,
calls me darling,
and even though I know
he’ll never be part of my life,
he stops me from falling
into the void,
into the bottomless well
where there’s no hope.
He’s been there himself.
He understands
and offers a sweet smile
and a comforting hand
even when he’s breaking inside.
He utters words of doom,
maybe as a release.
Truths about life,
horrors and bare skulls
which never stop his battle
to move forward and up.
That’s why I can see myself
in the mirror of him.
He sends me notes,
when I am down.
I know I’m walking
this dangerous tightrope
just because he’s not real,
because he’s far away.
A chimera of endless dread.
He’s the nectar on my lips,
my last thought before I sleep.
A powerful illusion,
a reason to live.
There’s no danger in loving a dream.
Or so I think…
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