She

She was born within my dreams, her face, radiant as the Sun and brighter than angels. Her eyes were the Pacific, how I drowned in their depths, until her smile told me to rise. Yet, I succumb to a dark brooding depression,every time I see her. And how she waves to my presence as if we're long lost lovers of a foggy past. Did we meet?Before? I know not, nor do i know if she is real. We do not speak,but stare and chapters of stories were told through our eyes. Dreams are good things, but dangerous in their temptations. Every time I wake after seeing her, I get up with the reinforced hope, that one day my dream will turn into reality. Until then, Let her wander within the recesses of my mind, as I sleep in oblivion. Personal.