Even in the dreams, I had to find you. It was never so easy, but adventurous to close my eyes to darkness and lose myself to find you. You see, I talk about dreams because the reality is often not accustomed to my need. It all began on the cyber interaction, one of the social media platform I have lost to my misery. But those interactions only made my conscious mind find interest in you with all stereotypes assembled at its edge. We met and walked. Trees were important to both of us, subconsciously everything settled into the walking patterns. I have heard a few stories about you. You only told me everything, but somehow I still could not fit all the reverberations in the simple sense of love I wanted.
You are my muse. One should never fall in affection with the Muse. One eventually falls in love with the muse. Two different terms and yes, that is why I am conflicted.
I love you. A syntax that I find rather ambiguous now. ‘I’ and ‘love’ have nothing to do with each other more of a natural law. Can I simply say? I make the stars move towards your planet to keep it warm? I can? Because I am a writer. But at the same time, we young minds never truly realise what our metaphor infer.
You would rather be friends and why not, dear muse. I have my dreams.
I wake up, alone.