Her
I sought her
within everything I did
and imagined how she would
carry herself, think, talk, feel…
I imagined that somewhere she was real.
Her face, an image that had become
the portal to an idea that that had come
to life through my own longings for a friendship
that’d been born inside my head.
My imagination gaining the better of me,
hoping a day would come where this idea,
if not a reality,
could just be set free.
And with each day a bit more obsessed,
as my being-ness had become depressed,
I longed for this girl to come to me.
For her to re-enliven my humanity.
And to remind me of the good behind the mundane reality
that seemed to be the headline that marked that chapter of my story.
Her face,
now dissolving into the ether,
causing me to wonder whether
I ever did get to meet her.
