Night of 15th February.

I dreamt of you. After that first conversation twenty three months ago. It has been quite some time that I shed tear at the thought of you. In fact, been quite some time I had any emotions over the thought of you. Apart from the usual "God, why is he so beautiful?" whisper in my head when I see a picture of you.

I dreamt that I was waiting for you. Not waiting for you to come to me, but for me to obtain closure. To look you in the eyes, smile and thank you for the inspiration you unknowingly gave my muse. No mention  of how I used to curl up from emotional pain over a guy I have never met in person. No mention of how I once thought you were perfect. No mention of the bad and ugly side that lays hidden under the rock.

I dreamt that I had nerves made of steel as I stood in front of the door, watching the people leaving the building. I had my phone in my hand, fingers gripping the sides as I told myself to not run away. My eyes were torn between searching for you and looking at the ground. Oh I was scared to my bones, scared of the reaction on your face.

I dreamt that I missed you. That you have taken another route. Despair filled the holes in my soul as I gave up. My shoulders sagged with dissapointment as closure had escaped my grasp. I walked to a bus stop, fingers digging into my palms as I wonder if I could dig up enough courage for another attempt in the future.

I dreamt that we saw each other at the same time. Your brows dipped slightly as you stared at me, recognition dawning. My breath got caught in my throat, held back the vowels of your name. Your lips quirked upwards slightly before you said my name.

"I was looking for you."

"You were?"

"At the .. front door."

"And here I am."

I dreamt that you were so beautiful.

I woke up.