Today or tomorrow.
I'll never be able to tell you.
To be reached out for.
To see a hand appear out of thin air.
Seeking only my hand.
I've seen it happen in movies.
Where she looks at him.
And it's only him she wants to see in that moment.
That must be an amazing feeling.

To be written about in prose.
To be an infection on someone's mind.
So much so that they need a release.
So they write, or they call just to hear their voice.

Something else to be imagined.
Like flight. Escaping.
In one life maybe.