Cherished Illusion

I keep you in my pocket,
my secret guilty pleasure.
You're a sweet romantic fantasy,
hidden treasure
I share with no one.

At suppertime I feast on dreams,
salted with illusions.
I drink the wine of wishes,
and sample the sweet pastry
of your promises.

I long to bite into your flesh,
taste what makes you real,
breathe your wishful thinking
until your oxygen rusts my skin,
and leaves me fragile in your arms.

Today our game is "let's pretend"
We'll fit our roles so well
that neither you nor I
will ever guess
it's just a fairy tale.

So tell me your story one more time.
Let me cherish every word.
Then kiss my forehead,
wish me sweet dreams,
and be my happily ever after.

This is a Sunday Scribblings post.