When I look into his eyes,
he doesn't seem real.
I feel his hair
entangled
in my fingers,
the touch of his hand on my
stomach,
his breath on my ear
as he whispers sweet nothings to me.

But it's as if I'm living in a movie,
a story line that's only there to make others envious.

It's all dream, though.
It has to be a dream.

I ask myself everyday,
How can something this good be happening to me?
Me.
Of all people.
What did I do to deserve him?

I know the mind is a powerful thing,
but I doubt mine could create such
an elaborate
figment of
my
imagination.

He's real, though.
He's so real.
He's the most real thing I've ever experienced.

And I love him.