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Sometimes, I think I invented you, out of the blue.

Out of boredom maybe, or just because I needed you. An unwritten poem that lingered on my lips when I was about to surrender to  sleep. Like a vaporous goodnight kiss, light as a feather brush. I might have painted you angel wings, while I wasn’t looking straight at you.

But was I ever? I guess I much prefered to keep you in my blind spot. Where you couldn’t hurt me and I couldn’t hurt you. Because even if you were just a dream, the fruit of my crancked up imagination…

I needed you.

You were so good at tiptoing on the border between fantasy and reality. The doubt kept me alive and hoping.

And hope is the ultimate drug, in a world gone so mad.

I wish I didn’t hold on to any tangible proof of your existence. It would have given me the only good reason to move on. To leave you behind and blame the leftover stomach flutters on delusional bouts of my crazy mind.

But here I stand, with this blurry at best, unflattering picture of you, in my trembling hand.

Your flaws are plenty, just as are mine. And curiously, the fuzzy blend of colors and thoughts draw me back to you like a moth to the light.

I hate that I see the beauty you hold, I really shouldn’t have.

You’re my favorite curse. And I thank you for that.

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