You.

I dreamed of you tonight. That we were not seperated by the miles, that we sat on the same porch admiring the city night. And though I barely know you, we were closer than the best of friends. We gazed at each other, your fingers tangled with mine and nothing else mattered. Just you, with your dark black hair, the smell of cloves on you skin, the beer on your breath. The exqusite tilt of you lips and the sparkle of your eyes.
I wonder how I must have looked. Certainly much different than I really am, for that is the power of dreams. I know only how I felt, the joy and amazement.
Now I sit here wondering, why would I dream of you? I barely know you. Why would I dream we kissed? Why would I dream that I didn't care how wrong it felt to be intimate with the enemy? Why was I so sad when I woke up, and realized that I could never tell you this, and that we may never meet? How is it that you're on mind mind, the ghost in my dreams?