I dreamt again,
Of a girl who held romantic interest in me.
She was beautiful- south Asian.
A desi girl.
She wore a long pastel dress, the colors I cannot remember.
She had a sister; one that teased her for having a crush on me that I had yet to perceive.
I was ecstatic, elated, infinitesimally happy. Then, I too, teased her.
To my great surprise and even greater relief, she flirted with me. Speaking so much more with her eyes and body language, a smile that held amusement and a secrets that had yet to be spoken.
It was a whirlwind romance: a rushed tryst behind an empty building, walks along the edges of a lake, embarrassing escapes from her family when we were caught in the midst of a passionate kiss, and bouts of obsessive protection against those that wanted to harm her and her family.
It was everything I wanted and more.
I can still taste and imagine the gentleness of her kiss,
the warmth of her smile,
the playfulness of her touch,
the melody of her voice.
And again I woke without any of those luxuries in the physical world.
My heart screams at the absence of her love,
my skin yearns for her touch,
my eyes are constantly looking for her smile,
and my mouth longing for her lips to once again press against mine.
It's torture.
Absolute and utterly cruel torture to be able to experience such simplicities yet never be acquainted with them.
My heart weeps.
My soul screams.
And my mind crumbles at the mere thought of never seeing her again.
Please,
My love,
Come back to me.
Meet me here in the real world where I stand.
And until you do,
Please,
Let me dream of you again.
