I Can See You

I can see you.

As if I had been present during your creation that was molded to fit my every imperfection to match your perfection.

You were specifically made for me.

From your superficial characteristics down to the internal sphere of life called a soul, every part of you was crafted just for me.

That full head of jet black hair which glows brown in sunlight.

Eyes carrying the beauty of deep ocean royal blue, making me get swept away by the current each time I look into them.

Lips an unmistakably perfect balance of feminine fullness and masculine thin.

Face shaped by straight, boldly strong lines yet possesses this softness that brings out a primal desire. Shoulders broad and thickly cased with hard muscle just beneath fair skin which ripples down the rest of your body.

Dominate features to contrast my sublime nature.

I can feel you.

I can feel your soft raven black locks.

Feel how my soul thumps and throbs in bliss of being close to you.

Feel the flutter of those pesky butterflies that fly around in my stomach whenever your ocean blues land on me.

Feel the rise of heated temperature in my body with every word, every touch.

Sadly, I can't have you.

You are something untouchable.

Something I can only dream of in my endless days of prolonged agony.

You are a tempting vixen that plagues the darkness behind my eyes during the moments before sleep takes me.

You are a siren that causes immense distractions as I have no strength against your hypnotic songs.

I can see you. I can touch you. I can love you.

But no matter how many love letters I write to you, it won't matter.

You can't see me. You can't touch me. You can't love me, not in the way I do.

Reason for this devastatingly plain?

You are my fictional lover.