It feels real,
But then dreams always do.
Is this an emotional hallucination?
A false semblance of love,
As I love just the sun’s crown of light
That eclipses her soul.
Am I falling in lust?
Is hope writing fiction under
The pseudonym of “Love”?
I keep diluting the facts,
Weakening them,
Stretching the truth like my emotional rack.
Now, the wind caresses me, exhilarates me as I fall,
But when will I hit the ground?
I don’t know.
I don’t know how to know.
I keep writing drafts of my own life,
Living and learning,
And someday I‘ll get my fairytale truth.
