as a dream—to see your brown hair pouring out onto the white leather seat of the boat. your skin is tan: mahogany. there are sun stained freckles resting below your eyes. you laugh at all the right times. you cry only when it's necessary. you smile every chance you can. my friends tell me that you're a keeper—that you're the one. i believe them, because you're almost to perfect to be real. and it's not until i reach my arm across my empty bed, that i realize you aren't.