Imaginary.
Made up.
Fake.
These are the words they use to describe you,
the words that rip my heart out.
They say I'm crazy,
for wanting to talk to you,
hold you,
touch you,
feel you,
meet you.
But does that make my feelings any less real than theirs?
Does my love for you make me less of a person,
more of a thought,
an imaginary being myself,
above them,
but not worthy of their time?
Or do they cast me out,
not because they dislike what I am,
but are jealous of what I have,
even when I appear to be alone?