Dream Man [pt 2]

To dream up of such a man
you wish you could have;
you chase an endless dream of something
you can never attain.
Because to dream of the perfect
someone is dream of a false image.
And I had dreamed the false image,
I had dreamed the Dream Man,
and I had found him.
In my mind I had the exact image
of what the Dream Man would look like.
His hair was the dark staining red
of blood dripping from an open wound.
His body was made beautifully,
as if he had the help of a sculptor.
His hands were wide enough to engulf mine;
soft enough to brush away a tear.
His eyes were an exquisite shade of blue,
light enough to smile in; deep enough to get lose in.
His height was enough to allow me
to rest my head on his shoulder;
tall enough to feel protected.
His smile could make stomachs flip;
and a day much brighter than
the sun could ever hope to do.
I had dreamed of this man for days,
I made stories in my mind about this man,
but those stories writing themselves when I met him.