A Dream Will Not Suffice

I wake up still dreaming
of the day our hearts will be acquianted through our hands
and by the end of the day,
the fantasy is stretched and torn at the seams

I think about your eyes,
how they remind me of the sky on a cloudless day
and on that day
I stand outside
looking up at the heavens,
grasping for the opportunity
to gaze directly into the sun
It seems possible
but everytime my eyes get near;
I shut them.
- and i dream of you again

I wrote this lame old poem when I was 16 years old. Don't judge me for it--- In retrospect I actually like the way I worded it. And I respect my 16 year old self's level of optimism and sentimentality.... but love poems blechh! These days I stick my finger in my throat at the thought.