Lips dripping with the blood of gardens, you caught my eye and held it close, like the crying babe I was in my heart. Regaling us with imagined tales of space travel, your eyes turning the chrome color of a sleek, silver ship. You can place your hands on my shoulders, my cheeks, my slowly tanning arms, I am your crutch and you are my captain. You can place your mouth so close and stare at my lips dripping with the blood of gardens, and I fail to accept that I am real to you.