Untraceable Grace
Your transcendual existence is vibrant even when I am not dreaming of you. For I am thinking of you in my dreams. Mulling you over, admiring your architecture like I would a fine sculpture and kissing the possibilities as I would a shadow. In our world balance is an abstract ideal, abstract but unsought. Our: the nonexistence that an infrequently appearing hole in my chest and an equally sporadic pressure in my brain vie to realize. In the unlimited space of my dreams with muted mutual agreement we awkwardly rested upon one another, creating the support necessary to keep us together. But after a sought after new position solidified you coagulated into a more conceivable, convincible partner for our acts of impossibility in the real world.