I'm in love with the idea of you.
You, who would much rather be behind the lens,
But willingly face the camera every night
Just to let me get a glimpse.
Even if it's just for several minutes
As we scarf down our respective dinners,
And hurry back to our respective projects.
You, whose mind acts as a pinball machine
In which my thoughts and ideas are the ball.
Mindfully answering my 3 a.m. questions,
Whether you aren't or you're not.
You, a lover of literature,
About whom I can't quote a generic poem,
Because you aren't.
In fact, I've never met anyone like you.
If you exist only in my mind,
Then why can't you answer me this?
Am I everything you've ever wanted?
Do you believe in reincarnation?
I must say, I'm starting to wonder
Why you feel so familiar.
Is this a memory
Or a premonition?
We can't have missed out on each other.
Do you feel it too?
We've done this before.
A double date
At the corner coffee shop.
My ex and his lady,
Your arms tight around me.
But you never told me,
What were we doing there?
Do the images come vividly to you?
Dancing in the kitchen;
Spilled coffee on important sketches;
My chin resting on your shoulder.
I gave you a name,
I gave you a face.
You are real to me.
I gave us an ending.
It's a habit of mine, you see,
To play things out,
Get ahead of myself.
Maybe this way
It will be easier,
That we never happened.
Let's say your parents disapprove,
Let's say we both do the smart thing.
Let's say I let you go,
Let's say you'll be okay.
Because you were, weren't you?
Alright without me.
And I you.
I haven't picked up the pen
In 18 months
Or maybe more.
But I understand now,
And I think you're to thank.