You were never meant to be real
I dreamed you up when I was six or seven and dismissed you as childish folly by age sixteen
Trust me, boys were the most escoteric of social constructs
Put in place to make skirts shorter and hair longer,
Eyes bluer,
Entirely alien
So when you kissed me on the bridge overlooking the waterfall we'd just climbed out of,
As my hair drenched the old, rotting wood underfoot,
We could've fallen apart
People wake up from dreams, right?
Today, I can't remember how the story goes