She’s heard in every heartbeat,
Seen in the depths of a mind’s eye,
A constant portrait of unblemished perfection.
Felt in the static that prickles the skin,
She’s no illusion, but reality made intangible,
A ghost so true as to tease corporeality.
Though her presence is not required
To be imagined, it is longed for,
Hoped for with every atom of self.
She’s sensory, no mirage nor optical trick,
A perfect most beautiful dream.
And ever shall be.
She’s you, though as yet we’ve never met.