You are

I feel you in the vibrations of music,

A certain pitch, a frequency that carves new pathways.

Is this what it means to feel butterflies?

You are as familiar as a lucid dream—

Both real and a figment of my imagination.

Tell me, when my thoughts first shaped you,

Did I feel like your reality, too?

I drew you before ever knowing you,

So I know what you’re capable of—

a silent pulse between us, building like a song,

memories, once hidden, begin to reveal themselves—

threads in a forgotten tapestry, glowing faintly,

luminescent blues outline your silhouette,

and I study our shadows, hoping they’d lead me back to you.

Did your skin react to the thought of my touch before our eyes even met?

Because I think my hands remember the quiet map of your body,

the gentle curve of your spine,

the way your breath caught under my fingers—

as if even then, you were made to fit.

Tell me—did I imagine all this?

And if I did,

Would you follow me, even if the promise broke?

If everlasting love was nothing more

than a fading dream we dared to chase,

would you still come?