What if I wished really strongly
that this small piece of wonder
could transform into something more?
What if I was afraid
that I’m rushing ideas,
that my dreams are just fears
and I will be alone again?
What if I felt this is unfair,
that she should be aware,
but not enforced into accepting it?
What if she has her own dreams
barely involving me,
and here am I, creating this whole scene
as if I’m the director.
What if I’m just scared
of being unaware, of being unprepared.
What if this is just me sabotaging myself again?
I wonder if this dream can even exist,
or is just an illusion again
to tell me all is better
when it ain’t.
Passion is out of my dictionary,
but here am I wondering,
as if it can just be created,
as if I can just feel it.
As if she would feel it too.
What if it all works well,
with me one day grinning
from side to side,
reading this to another smile,
while I stroke her hair?
What if she is unaware,
but not unwilling to be there
for this deluded dream of mine?
Should I phase this out as just an illusion,
or should I dream knowing it can happen?
Should I stop of hopefully write,
or hope the written words will take life
... and fly?
