Shallow Dreams (by Julie Hamel (Kismet Rho))
I’d like to confess a few things cyber space. So bare with me.
I love you. I’ve always loved you and didn’t know it. I’ve messed this up beyond belief. How could I be so stupid you ask? How could you be so smart I ask. Always 10 steps ahead. Always knowing what I want. What I need. You enter a room with a purpose, striding effortlessly over hardwood and carpet like a junkie figure skater chasing a fix. I watch every move. You know all, understand all, see all. You are perfect. I lay my head on your chest. If they put a mic to your heartbeat and released it as an EP it would win Grammy’s. You ARE perfect. And what am I you ask? I am nothing. I am feeble, scared of my shadow’s shadow. I claw and inch my way out of the darkness to glimpse the light you are emitting only to be blinded by an entireness I will never know. I am weak. Did I ever deserve you? I think not. Will I? In lifetimes to come maybe. But you are leaving. Leaving from sight but not mind. Your essence will linger and fold over on its self again and again and again like a piece of titanium origami that will never be destroyed. My only hope now is that in all your perfection you’ll wait for a lesser creature like myself to catch up. To evolve. So wait my beautiful Gastropod. Please. Wait for me somewhere between reality and all we’ve ever dreamed.