A Mirage

She’s not real, she can’t be.
She’s a mirage
A figment of my imagination
An illusion
A dream.
Her skin is too soft, like touching a dream.
Her lips are too sensual
They murmur and whisper
They tremble and scream and beg to be kissed.
Her eyes reflect your soul
And the reflection is better than reality.
Her mind is too swift.
Her humor too sharp.

Her voice is too sultry
Like a warm summer night
Impossible to ignore
Impossible to resist.
Her laugh’s too sonorous
Too genuine to be real.
It is a clue that she’s not real.

Her figure is too perfect, too statuesque
Her lines and curves are too subtle, too sublime.
Like a Goddess of old
Like a sorceress
Her lines and curves enchant you,
Enslave you into loving every gesture, every move.
Her energy is too contagious.
She passes by like a star or a comet,
Leaving behind smiles on your eyes with her tail.
She’s too salacious, too sensual,
Too inspiring, uplifting, elegant, magnificent.

I must keep telling myself she’s not real.
She can’t be

she’s a mirage

A figment of my imagination
An illusion
A dream.
Dreamt by a drowning heart
Who prayed for a sandy beach.
Hallucinated by a starving soul
Desperate for the taste of the sweet fruit.
Imagined by a desperate mind
Frantic for something beautiful to behold.

I’m falling in love with a dream
Even though I know the morning’s approaching.

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