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.