If I can ask one thing of you, promise me this,
Never to call me the girl of your dreams
For I know I cannot be that.
Your dream girl, this fantasy creature only seen when the lights are out,
as your mind wanders far into the night, searching for her in every dark corner of your subconscious.

In fact
I don’t wish to be any mans dream
Not yours, not his, not theirs.
Instead, Let me be your reality
The girl you wake up to from these dreams
The real, the physical, the flawed

Can we share the broken pieces of our pasts, the pieces people said were too sharp, too fragmented to be fixed.
Let it be me to stitch together the wounds left behind on your skin by lovers and friends
The glue that holds together the fragments of your broken trust.
The warmth to soothe the coldness of the worn out heart you carry; heavy, in the cavity of your chest

See, the thing with dreams is eventually we have to wake up.
And if I can ask just one more thing of you, I promise this will be the last
Be here when I open my eyes in the morning,
Be my reality, my beautifully imperfect reality.