My own Bohemian Rhapsody

Tonight I sit looking at the full moon, thinking of you, while that song runs through my head alongside scenes from Sleepless in Seattle.

I wonder how much of the last three months have been a dream. The longer we are apart the more I think it was all made up in my head, something to fill the void deep in my heart.

How empty am I that I create a dream lover? How confused that even my dreams leave me bereft and abandoned?

The moon is a comfort. It's real. And maybe, just maybe, you are looking at it tonight and thinking of me.


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