midnight strikes and dreams arise. characters from pretty animations crafted by hand appear before my closed eyes, their wondrous love making my smile even so. it's not rare that i lose myself in my own imagination, yet i seek the calamity flowing from this wonderful catastrophe of what i call longing. it's a fervour rushing my pulse, and thinking of you as my charming date widens the beam that seems to be now constantly on my face.
in this dream - revé - my mind conjures, we are waltzing together, two stars adorning pastels, cheeks flushed with the tinge of adventure and excitement. we are but two dreamers, we whisper these scenarios through the static microphones of our telephones, but soft illusions like these are meant to be loved and cherished and perhaps acted upon one day in the future, when the both of us will obtain that push of impulse.
even so, it's nice to observe the safety net my imagination painted as the background, the vast meadows of emerald being our playground and little corner of the world. yet when i blink and revert myself back to our real world - the vast meadows upholding us (me) are replaced by the single-sized mattress of my bedroom, and your comforting hold is now a pillow holding me warm in the winter dawn.
yet, one thing never changes. you're still there, your smile still as bright despite the low brightness of my phone, your voice still drawling mellowly but lovingly, drawing me to my favourite past time of listening to you.
you're still there, lovely as always, and i just melt to the realisation that the pastels i adorn in my revé are no rival to the wondrousness of your blushing cheeks.
