He’s just a dream,

who keeps me alive.

He colours my dark hours,

paints my world

with black-edged hearts.

He mispronounces my name,

calls me darling,

and even though I know

he’ll never be part of my life,

he stops me from falling

into the void,

into the bottomless well

where there’s no hope.

He’s been there himself.

He understands

and offers a sweet smile

and a comforting hand

even when he’s breaking inside.

He utters words of doom,

maybe as a release.

Truths about life,

horrors and bare skulls

which never stop his battle

to move forward and up.

That’s why I can see myself

in the mirror of him.

He sends me notes,

when I am down.

I know I’m walking

this dangerous tightrope

just because he’s not real,

because he’s far away.

A chimera of endless dread.

He’s the nectar on my lips,

my last thought before I sleep.

A powerful illusion,

a reason to live.

There’s no danger in loving a dream.

Or so I think…