Because I wonder if your answer would be as big as the size of the moon.
Am I a dream to you?
That somehow fills you with nightmares and wet dreams whenever you turn your back to the other side of the bed to see if I was lying beside you and wonder if flowers bloom at night or not?
Am I a stranger to you?
Who only leaves a scent of her perfume when she walks but does not make you wonder who?
Am I a friend to you?
Do your friends look at you the way I do? As if my two eyes, when they look at you, they almost pop out for always banging with each other to have that magical horn on my forehead that says “hello there, I’m here. I want you!”
Am I real to you?
Because if you haven’t decided yet, let me change your mind at least like how the ocean changes the tides high and low when you gape at it to whisper words sang by a flute or how spring colors the earth neon at night, all the flower petals open to brag their beauty and make you change your mind.
You are so real. You make all I’ve written about you a dream forgotten.