a snow globe fantasy

You: If I could kiss you... I would hold you close to me.
 My arms wrapped around you. And I would let my lips
 and nose glide against your skin, waiting to meet your
 mouth. My hands would be holding your neck and jaw.
 Gently. How it’s meant to be.
 
Me: you have no idea what you do to me...  
 
You: What do I do to you?  
 
Me: the way you make me feel, the way the words hit,
 how much I want them, how if it was anyone but you, I
 wouldn’t feel the way they make me feel.
 
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There's something beautiful  
about the lies we tell ourselves  
and this correspondence  
evokes a sweet bitterness  
I'm unwilling to let go of  
 
Like all beautiful lies  
there was a grain of truth  
hidden in the curve of your mouth  
the ridiculous ocean of your eyes  
but that's all that ever was  
a grain that led nothing  
but fantasies  
that had me slipping my fingers  
beneath the soft cotton of my panties  
where I could only touch myself  
to the idea of you  
biting my lip as I came  
so I wouldn't let your name  
slip between the reality  
I created around us  
and the reality that bound me  
to the ground beneath my feet  
 
Because you were always  
the perfect fantasy  
untouchable  
impervious to the monotony  
of daily life that takes  
the fire out our limbs  
at the end of a long day  
and turns niggling disagreements  
into the kind of fights that  
could put holes in walls  
with just the right push
 
You'll never have to breathe  
my melancholy that lasts for months  
or yell at me because I haven't done  
the dishes in four days
or repeat yourself more times  
than you have the patience for  
because I'm too zoned out  
to listen to anything you have to say  
 
I'll never have to clear your
drug paraphernalia off
the side table  
before guests come over  
or worry if your friends will
overstay their welcome again  
or trip over the every growing  
stack of beer cans
you said you'd take out
the day before yesterday  
 
We were a perfect fantasy  
encased in glass
like a snow globe  
to shake up on lonely days  
untouched by the truths of real life  
 
And sometimes I still wonder  
what it would be like to  
to feel that moment you described  
and know either way  
if we could have lived up to the hype  
 
-Eve-