Imaginary

  i keep my imagination on a leash, but a long one, and i let it roam around my room. it flies around on little glass wings, catching the light from my open window. it flits aimlessly about, waiting to catch a wondering, unsuspecting idea to feast upon and digest it thorough my fingers and into the notebook kept beneath my pillow.
     
      these are the times when i feel you here.
     
      i know i've made you up, but it's comforting to have you, anyways.
     
      i see your face and i wonder what it would be like to touch it. i imagine it must be soft, because that's what i would want. you're sandy hair would be soft, too. but your eyes are the softest, deep and brown, like my own. and they are full of life and love.
     
      love for me.
     
      i can't hold you, nor can you hold me, our hands pass through each others. but we can look at each other. i wonder if an imaginary man can see. i like to think you can. i like to think that what you see is beautiful.
     
      i like to think that you love my hair, soft brown curls. i like to imagine you like looking into my eyes. i wonder that if since you come from my mind, if you know my thoughts and understand my feelings. i like to think you must because it makes me feel less alone.
     
      my imagination whizzes above your head, light dancing off your skin, reflecting in your eyes, reminding me that you aren't real. i feel hot tears in my eyes. your face remains the same. can an imaginary man feel? i suppose you could if i let you. so i imagine a kind look of sympathy on your face and of course, i find it there. but it only makes the hurt worse. you don't love me because you want to. you love me because you're part of me.
     
      you love me because that's how i imagine it.
     
      i wonder what i'll do with you when someone real comes alone. someone who can hold my hand. someone who can feel. someone who can talk and who i can share secrets with.
     
      someone who loves me because they want to.
     
      will you disappear? will you fade like a photograph, back to the depths of my mind where i can pull you out if necessary? or will you simply die?
     
      can an imaginary man die?
     
      I hope not, because i think i'd miss you. because if you die, a little piece of me piece of me would die too. i think you are a very important piece of me. i think you are the piece of me that loves me. and everyone should love themselves a little, or they can never love another.
     
      so i don't think you'll die when i meet someone. i think you'll be more alive than ever.
     
      i like that thought.
     
      i pull my imagination back , reeling in the silver leash, watching you fade a little more with each tug. as you disappear, you wave goodbye, as if you know something i don't.
     
      but how could that be?
     
      maybe i'll never know.