Fantasy b2

"

In a dream I wasn’t alone
On Christmas.

And you kissed me
On new year’s.

On the lips.

In a way friends never kiss,
Even when drunk and heartbroken.

I objectify you
In so many ways..

To me
Our love exists
In poems,
Journal entries,
And
The parties of mutual acquaintances.

In realms of possibility
We have love,

Even if
At night you lay
Your head near
Someone
Else’s slow-breathing face

And
I write postcards
From foreign suburbs.

At least we have lines together.

Where hands can join tenderly
And without
The awkwardness of reality.

At least we smile
With gentle motives.

And never cheat
On our intentions.

In my journal entry
We can do no wrong.

No couple was made more
Sitcom ideal.

But I miss you, woman.

Want to know you, woman.

I don’t want the two dimensional
Vision
Of your summer dress
On warehouse rooftops.

I don’t want
The flatness
Of your voice
Unable
To tell me
How you really feel..

I don’t want just the spark in my heart
Or the near faint
When you pour me tea.

I want your lust
And your cruelty.

I want to dig myself
Out of the ashes of ex-boyfriends.

I want to feel the pain
Of dealing with
Your family with you.

I want to call you on the phone
To ask
If you want me
To pick anything up.

You’re not just in my dreams,
But
You seem like one.
And I’m through
Writing possibility,

Show me tomorrow
And give me
Your hand.

"

by Beau Sia, “Fantasy b2”