And so she created her own world.
A world where every wanting-thought of hers was real.
His curls and his heavy beats; the way he swayed as his music played.
His fingers, turning the different buttons and controls, oh so beautiful.
And his dark clothing and shy ways.
In this world,
it was all hers.
She could pick anything she ever desired and have it right there.
Everything she ever wanted to do but didn't was made possible.
Always happy, always proud of what she did and had.
No waste of time, no, never. It was all so fucking perfect.
And it all seemed so real, maybe that was the problem.
The swaying, the way his body truly followed the music.
How could someone's movements be so captivating?
Too bad she always woke up.