Have our ending as you will, but I’m excited for mine

Have our ending as you will, but I’m excited for mine

Yes, I know.

Promise I’m not opposing your opinion.

You told me it was all in my mind.

“Only my romantic imagination”.

I get it. I get you.

You reckon I made it all up…

 

I made up that your eyes

changed from cool, iced over,

glazed pools of numbness,

to, upon my departure,

bottomless depths of galaxies,

shining in the glory,

of an overjoyed spirit.

 

I concocted the idea:

That you hung on my words,

stored  my voice in your mind,

weighed my opinion in your decisions,

remembered my every whisper.

 

There was no truth in my notion

that when we danced,

we merged… soulfully, rhythmically,

a one-ness I’d only felt in my dreams.

A union echoing teenage fantasies,

adult dreams and years of wishes,

all realised to the perfect song,

chosen by destiny.

 

A sure misconnection in my brain

is what opens my tear ducts

when I hear music on the radio.

A mis-feed in information, completely

random that my soul knows the music,

that I’m breathing the lyrics with an invisible you.

 

It’s totally my bad that I think, hope,

that it wasn’t my imagination,

that your smile in my presence,

your joy in our laughter together,

was a genuine reaction to:

unconditional love,

primal intuition.

 

Yes, yes, you felt nothing.

The electricity that coursed,

throbbed through,

and ignited my being,

was only due to neurons,

a spine-brain-pulse, a mis-fire.

I get it.

 

But here’s the thing,

Here’s where I’m at:

My imagination, this “dream”,

leaves me beyond excited, ecstatic,

overwhelmed, thrilled, deliriously happy;

because one day, without fail,

an Awesome man and I will be

believing, will be sharing in,

my “extraordinary” imagination.

It’s ok that you don’t want to be that man.

To you: I’m just a messy jumble,

You’d rather avoid.