He was real

She loved the way he spoke of his dreams,

The child-like curiosity

And the fervor of a grown man.

She loved the color of his eyes,

It had a certain kind of conflict

They reminded her of chocolate.

But she knew it held galaxies within,

The sparkle of a distant star.

She loved the feel of his hands

The grip so firm

It could calm the chaos in her head

A touch so fervent

It sent shivers down her spine.

She loved how he made her wonder

Wonder about the vast expanse of star studded skies

And the sordid human lies

But more than anything she loved that this was not a fragment of her imagination.

He was real. Very much Real.