I stumbled onto you,
half by mistake, trying to elude
the hounds who have no discretion or taste.

You were a polite voice,
in a world of ramble,
A gentleman searching
for more than the tepid offerings
that seemed to fill the air.

Well named you are,
Romantic, rather than romeo,
and I don\'t need you to die for me,
not even once.

You hardly wait to meet,
longing across the miles
and I cannot give you that yet.

I am whimsy and fantasy and perfect
because I am not yet flesh to you.

I am a dream, a genie, a bit of black magic
that has found it\'s way into your world.
You are a sweet spirit
to torment my dreams,
steal my heart,
and leaves me happy,

but I could not bear the look in your eyes
if the soul you have come to love
does not match the flesh
you wish to press.

Let me stay a fantasy, dream lover, witch---
And you can have me always.