In dreams we meet most every night,
though strangers in the day.
At twilight lovers we become,
at dawn we drift away.

I know your body perfectly,
each wrinkle, line and scar.
And yet I do not know at all,
if you are near or far.

But doubt I not that you are real,
for what you say to me,
reflects my very souls desire,
and hold you the only key.

If by some fate we ever meet,
I will not pass you by.
For in my dreams so clear I see,
what lies behind those eyes.

Perhaps tomorrow on the street,
or across a crowded train.
Our eyes will meet by pure chance,
that spark I'll see again.

And when that moment comes to pass,
as I am sure it will.
Will you notice that its me my love,
and will your heart be still.

For do you dream the same as me,
while each night in bed you lay.
Of someone who completes your life,
from dusk til dawn's new day.

Take me to that place you hold,
closed off deep inside.
Where dreams of love and gentleness and reality collide
Where openly you live in hope,
but dare not dream it true.
For that is where your future lays,
a life with me and you.

Am I someones "one that got away"?
Do I keep them awake at night,
with regrets that thing's weren't different,
that they'd not given up the fight?

Is there someone there that thinks of me,
on those damp depressing days,
that makes them smile out the window,
chasing their blahs away?

Do they search for me on Facebook,
have they Googled me at all?
Do they see me here with nothing,
or do they think I have it all?

I guess for sure I'll never know,
if they don't or if they do.
Kinda makes you wonder though,
does someone do that for you?

Sometimes in the night
when I’m alone and cannot sleep
I picture you and I
but it’s a thing I cannot keep

For its not yet a memory
but a waking dream of mine
a fantasy of someday
just waiting for a sign

A sign that says you see it too
that into your dreams I creep
a dream of which you dare not speak
a secret sworn to keep

If thats the case then hear me now
speak up, do not be scared
It's better to have loved and lost
than thought nobody cared.

Is it ironic
that the child with terrible handwriting
expresses himself better with the written word
than he does the spoken?

There are more than a few
questions in life
that at first blush sound like a trap
like does my **** look big in this
or how do I look in this hat

Or perhaps you've been asked
to guess someone's age
or perhaps even worse guess their weight
to all of these questions the answer should be
to look in their eye, tell em straight.

"I could tell you the truth
as it appears to me
but is that what you want to hear
I get the feeling you know the answer
and getting it wrong's what I fear"

"So if its OK with you I'll pass on that one
and the reason for this is, you see,
While certain answers have
an upside for you
there's just no upside for me."

I wish...

I wish that I was better with words.

I wish that I was more confident.

The kind of confident that would let me walk up to your door and tell you everything. Tell you everything that goes on inside my head as far as you're concerned.

But I'm not.

So I can't.

But I want to.

I want so badly to tell you that maybe, just maybe, you, are the one.

Not in a Matrix gonna save the world from the machines kind of a way but in the way that real people think of the one. The one that I've been looking for, the one I gave up looking for, the one that I didn't think even existed.

At least not for me.

I want to tell you that I think you may be the one and I want you tell me that you've been wanting to say the same thing.

But you couldn't.

Because you weren't good enough with words.

Because you didn't have the confidence.

Wouldn't that be ironic.

But I'm also scared.

I'm scared that I'll see you and tell you that I think you might be the one and hear you say thats all very nice and you might be my one, but I'm not yours.

And you'd be sorry.

You'd be sorry and you'd mean it because you are kind and you are beautiful. But it wouldn't help.

So what do I do?

Do I risk it? Do I tell you and cross everything and hope and pray that maybe, just maybe, I might be your one too?

Or do I say nothing.

Do I say nothing and just continue to lie here every night the way I have been since I worked out what it was about you that caused you to be in every thought that I have and every dream?

There is safety in saying nothing.

If I don't say anything then you can't say anything bad. You can't say no. You can't say that maybe you don't believe in the one. You can't say that you had your one once and it didn't work out so how can you possibly have another.

I know its crazy, but thats the way you drive me.

And its crazy that you drive me crazy. It's crazy that you've gotten under my skin the way you have. Its crazy that you've gotten under my skin so completely, you're like a tattoo. Like a tattoo in a private place, a hidden place. Like a living breathing tattoo that I carry round with me all the time and I'm the only one that knows that you're there. And I'm glad you're there. I like you there.

So I keep wishing.

Only now I wish that maybe you read poetry and you happen accross this somehow and read it and pick up the phone and say "Hey... stop wishing so much, just kiss me."

I wish.

Everything will be alright for you
Because it should be
And for us

I promise. Hold me to it.

You are a beautiful person. Remember our discussion of the word?
On all accounts
Please don't forget that.

I know and treasure the love you hold for me
And my heart beats back to yours
How thrilling to peruse the pages of ecstasy
That your heart writes
And mine adores

I read living lines that pierce my waking heart
Upon each lovely page I see
Each word justly claims myself to be a part
Of you
As you are, of me

Because I know you love me unquestionably
And my heart beats back to yours
I continue reading these lines with glee
That your heart writes
And mine adores

Such powerful writing a heart can display
When a heart beats back in return
How thrilling to peruse these pages each day
Watch love growing
As they turn