I am in love with you.

I think about you every waking hour, every breath I take is dedicated to you. I dream about the way you kiss, the way you feel and sound.

I think about your smile your laugh, the way your eyes smile when your lips curl into a grin.

I think about all the love songs and stories in the world, and finally feel what they are feeling. The complete and utter completeness one feels, when they are in love.

I love the way your hand feels in mine and how you look at me, like I am the only one in the room. I love the beating of your heart steady and slow.

I love the sound of your voice filling up a room and bringing everyone to silence with a honey sweet but stern sound. But more when your voice is just for me. Slow and rough against my ear. Just for me.

I dream, day and night, about the domestic life with you. Waking up next to you, getting ready like a well-oiled machine and coming home to our own loving home.

I want to dance with you in the kitchen every night, as cheesy as it sounds.

I want to fall asleep in your arms and do it all every night again.

I want to take you to family gatherings. To see you with my parents and siblings, cousins’ aunts, and uncles, them treating you like one of them. I want to see the glitter in my parents’ eyes when you talk to them, knowing their daughter is in good hands.

I want to gossip about what happened in the car, getting lost in the news of the day.

I want you by my side by my sister’s or cousin’s wedding, fantasizing what ours might look like one day.

But I don’t know you. You are a makeshift person that changes their face occasionally to look like a new person I know. You are made up by my mind to fill a void I had for years.

You are not real.