Dream Girl

your love is a sweet vortex
and I'm free falling out of reality

I speak my honest lies

As long as we can keep up the pretence
your glitter laugh is my momentary truth
sweet pirate-breath pixie


You know how Disney songs have that mental scale change, 

and chimes and birdsong and falling petals in the background?
Mae sounds like that. 
Like sparkly things.
Like dust glinting in sunlight. 
Looks like it, too - she's got this lotion with glitter in it, and it makes her smell like a bakery - 
so when she's talking to you 
or listening to your mundane, unimportant, decidedly drab stories
with absolute, undivided attention, 
leaning in,
eyes wide,
she looks edible.

Like the perfect pastel cupcake of Disneyland dreams:
beautifully put together, wrapped in fancy handcrafted paper, tied together with some nonsensically cute bow
tiny hand-cut sugar stars and hearts sprinkled artfully over flawless frosting

Perfect structure, perfect height,
perfect contour, perfect highlight,
perfect magical effortlessness, 
like all the gods sat together around a campfire one moonless starry night and said let's give her everything a guy could ask for:
a sweet voice, a kind heart 
pretty manners, a shy smile
artsy, aesthetic, creative in love, with her doodles and sketches and girly little notes,
and fairy lights on the bars of her windows like stars 
that she plucked out of the sky for me

(pause for wistful dreamy sigh)

tiny, so when I hold her, my arms wrap around her-
light, so when I lift her, I don't have to let go-
resilient, so there's no doubt that she's a fighter-
brilliant, fully aware I won't impress her-
insecure
so I know that she'll stay-
loyal
out of my way

innocent, so basically,
unknowing of all I should be,
undemanding, so I never disappoint,
understanding, the kind that won't mind
when I sneak off in the middle of the night

an optimist
she will still keep
mouthwash and an aspirin ready
hopeful
that when I wake up in the morning
I'll roll over and kiss her, and taste like peppermint candy.

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