Hard to Love a Fairy Tale

Addicted to romance dramas

It doesn't matter what language

Multitask between reading and observing

Worth it as long as the heart flutters

Clawing into thread as the pillow muffles a shriek

Watching them from the other side of a screen

Real, fantasy, fiction, emotionally valuable

Influence...

Everyday, spent, with darting glances

Here, there

Who is next?

Gaze sanguine

Peeking around trying to find a familiar face among a sea of strangers

Except the approach is all wrong

A fictional character couldn't ever walk among the masses

This is fact, yet it doesn't stop those pangs in the chest

It's dependence

Dependence on what is still ambiguous

Fantasy?

Fiction?

The Actor?

The Character?

Or is it love?

Is it love that drives this obsession?

Or is it the love of loving?

Maybe the addiction is deeper and much crueler than it once was

A transformation of innocent curiosity and pure love to perversion

What would happen if the non-attainability becomes apparent, as though viewing through a looking glass?

Would it end with chills in the heart that pumps with deadly denial and cold steel?

Acceptance and gratitude for the memories?

Or utter emptiness from the lack of heart?

All that valuable emotions shared draining until forced to consume with silverware.

Would it be alright to love then?

He who falls into your arms from a white chariot and roses upon the pocket of his suit 

She who strides with a coy smile and heels clicking on marble tiles

Like out of a romance drama 

Except their faces are all wrong

He or she is not that character

Lacking....It's hard to love....