I fell in love with the girl behind the screen. You were an ex-convict who spoke too sweetly of the way my legs looked in the exaggeratedly posed photos I would send you. In my state of false teen rebellion and defiance for society, I did the one thing you told me to never do; I fell in love with you. Thoughts of you sent me into a fourth dimension where sunrises did not signal the end of sleep but rather the beginning of a slothful day. I wanted to kiss every freckle I imagined would be on your face; imagined only because I never knew what your face held, and feared I never would. I fell in love with a faceless girl. Mirages of walking hand in hand through the streets were inevitable, until darkness came and those sweet mirages morphed to the pleasure of your whimpering body tied to the bed. Whilst I dreamt of being with you, you were enveloped with your girlfriend who spent too much time with others who were not you. I imagine I gave in to giving you everything you plead for all too easily, giving you too much. I gorged you with texts of compassion when you begged for relationships of sadism, a gorging of the type I did not wish to give you. I wanted to be the girl that caused your empty breaks in conversation when you would forget how to speak for the brevity of a moment. For weeks I incessantly checked my phone for your messages I would never receive, for you would never love me. No, never in the way I was in love with you. I fell in love with the one thing that could destroy me without ever laying eyes on me. I fell in love with a face I would never see.