When love is fabricated in fantasies of night,

something special is bound to form.

Even if I say we are one and the same,

we always contrast each other somehow.

I am the day, and he is the night.

The sweetness of his embrace gets me through the day,

until I can imagine him holding me once again.

He is my protector, I am their prey.

Except, he can only protect me in the night, as I drift into sleep, my soul he will protect.

He'll protect me from my nightmares, from my vicious memories.

He'll protect me from myself, all the things I foolishly claim I should be.

He is but a dream, and I am bound by reality.

He is my dream, and he loves me.

Each night holding me in his arms so tenderly, it makes me think of the heavens above, that also watch me as I pray.

I am real and I still love him.

Though what is reality anyway? I do not know, and ultimately I do not care.

He is here, and I am there.

He is fantasy.

I am bound by reality.

We are one in the same but as the same we are completely different.

Separated completely by fiction and logical realms of possibility.

Alas we shall be apart forever, and reality will one day crush the dream.

My dear, I love you.

I must awake another day, but I promise I'll see you soon.

And when we part you'll always be right here, in my heart, if not in the forefront of my mind.

I will never truly leave you behind.