I know you must be real
I know if my mind pushes hard enough
You will spring into existence
Like a raindrop
On the shoulder of a boy with a broken heart and a handful of withering red roses
but I don't know that I can trust my intelligence,
though
because lately I've been struggling
with the line between reality and a reverie
But I'm sure you're not just on paper
and that's your real
because most every kind of person is.
but until we've met,
I'll sit on the curb
next to the boy with the roses
and wait for the rain to fall.