were you real?

i know you were tangible, at least
my fingers could always search out your
roughened fingerpads which i tried to rub smooth
(or maybe just away the contour lines)

your hair was harshly spiked and i had
to get through all the Gatsby to really touch
copper strands that shone a halo in the sunlight

i know you were visible, at least
out the corner of my eye you had your dimples
on display, your head-to-toe designer clothes on,
your charcoal skin against porcelain white teeth

i know you had emotions, at least
you explained your shallow breathing - you were
scared of the dark and hiding under the covers
you used to pretend you loved me too

i kept October messages to remind myself
of something i never had, to keep a glimmer
of hope alive that love could be cultivated

it doesn't matter if i think it's cliched to cry,
i convince myself it's really because of the
tragedy that i'm watching unfurl and not really because of

you,
but you are real you are

my breath (here and gone in an instant.)

A/N: personal and undefinable. i miss you really i do.
A/N2 (3march'05): haha fuckwittage.. i'll forget you soon enough..