How do you know when an idea can be real?
I already miss the idea of you, which is dangerous.
We met months ago, but only found truth together recently.
Isn’t that more than an idea?
If you stare at a wood floor you can see the spaces.
Each one pressing against the next, but no two held in the same way.
I believe that once you look through those gaps, you find the real support.
Discovering the strength underneath each piece of a whole.
I feel humans are made in the same way.
Each piece, whether damaged, new, or replaced has a story.
That tale brings us to our chapters of life.
The epic which creates our current self, forever changing forward.
When two of those pieces from separate rooms fit alongside the other,
An idea begins.
Until that point, we are untold stories waiting to be read.
Temptations to be seen, unfinished notes to an old friend.
An idea which we may fall in love with, or a song we may never hear.
I’m starting to grow fond of the idea.