Storybook Love

As the clock strikes twelve, in the middle of the night,

My eyes close as I wake in a dream with endless, yet unreal

possibilities in sight….

The ebb and flow of “will they, won’t they”

Washes over me, scalding with desire,

Masquerading as friends-to-lovers,

Bubbling with the symptoms of love, 

In the backdrop of tension and anticipation.

Is it too much to ask for a fairytale ending

And a vivacious storybook love?

I enter a world not of our own,

Hypnotised by the strings of printed ink

As they weave a love story tempered by fire.

I imagine what it’s like to fall so deeply,

Head over heels, without ever knowing

The circumstance seen as happenstance,

But through the ages asking for remembrance,

Wondering if it’s too much to ask for – 

A happy ending – to a coveted storybook love.

I sit upright on my bed, eyes focused, awake,

Under the incandescent candlelight,

Ready to right this storybook love.