It seemed like a waste of time, all these strokes into the tide. Why use the energy to prettify an elegy? Still one does things to come to terms, and the excuse to move warmed her skin and soothed her mind.
As real as you need. As real as rowing out to sea. You're never coming back again, to lead the life you should have lived. As real as imaginary friends. Imagining untimely ends. Suffering their company just to see if they could be real. I'm as real as you want me to be. As real as any nighttime thief, breaking in to heavy dreams. As haphazard as it seems, I could still steal you.