Am I real?
Or is it just the way your hands feel on my skin?
Is it the way our palms touch when you are looking into my eyes?
Or is it the way your lips whisper haiku against the paper of my breasts?
You leave me breathlessly questioning if I exist or if I am merely a figment of your imagination.
Can your mind paint the sky such a heavenly blue?
Can you bind me to the earth as reality?
Are you a God that you can breathe life into my empty lungs?
Am I real?
You say I am only as real as I believe I am.
If that is true than I am nothing more than your will.
I am of simple design, easy tastes and childish whims.
Will I bleed if you prick me?
There are days I don't believe in myself.
Almost mythical, not quite beautiful, a dream wishing to be born.
Will you give me birth?
Or is it just the way your hands feel on my skin?
Is it the way our palms touch when you are looking into my eyes?
Or is it the way your lips whisper haiku against the paper of my breasts?
You leave me breathlessly questioning if I exist or if I am merely a figment of your imagination.
Can your mind paint the sky such a heavenly blue?
Can you bind me to the earth as reality?
Are you a God that you can breathe life into my empty lungs?
Am I real?
You say I am only as real as I believe I am.
If that is true than I am nothing more than your will.
I am of simple design, easy tastes and childish whims.
Will I bleed if you prick me?
There are days I don't believe in myself.
Almost mythical, not quite beautiful, a dream wishing to be born.
Will you give me birth?
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