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The Idea of You

The Idea of You


I can’t explain it.

I see you in my dreams.

Something happens, and I can’t wait to tell you.

I know what you look like.

You have dark hair, but you're shorter than I expected.

I know how you sound.

Your voice is deep, but it raises the happier you are.

I know your eyes.

They are dark and reflect the world you see.

I've never met you.

I’ve seen you somewhere before.

I write about you all the time.

I’m always thinking about you.

What would you think of the way the sky looks today?

What books would you skim through at the bookstore?

What do you listen to in the car?

More importantly, do you think of me too?

Every now and then, I’m worried you’re not real.

The person I danced with in the kitchen in my dream doesn’t exist.

I’m afraid.

What if the person I walked with on the beach does exist.

Even the idea of you is too good to be true.

I thought I saw you.

I can’t explain it.

But, the person I saw looks a lot like you do.

Their eyes and their voice were recognizable.

I wonder if you’ve seen me.

I’m trying to make my way to you.

I promise I’ll try my best to be enough.

Because even the idea of you is enough to bring me to my knees.


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