Of Dreams

I know that I am dreamy and that the kind of love I hope for may be unrealistic but I'd rather believe in my dream than to sigh and make do with what is available.

My dream will keep me going, will make me wake up every morning exhilarated, will make me ask myself eagerly, "Is today the day that I will find him? Will it happen for me this day?"

For what is life without questions? What is love without completeness, oneness?

So, I would rather keep the hope burning bright in my heart than to wince inwardly when I say "I love you" and I know it is untrue.

I would rather tingle from love scenes yet made than to bite my lips to keep from screaming another's name as my 'make do'  makes love to me.

I would rather grin in glee to anticipated conversation than to listen to him half-heartedly, the ears of my heart straining to hear another's voice.

I would rather be alone, hoping for the kind of love that I desire to find me, than to live unhappily ever after with just anyone.

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