I look around and I see nothing. My eyes have forgotten their old friendship with the night, and its darkness has become impenetrable to sight. I wonder if that’s how you’ve disarmed me. Unable to see what lies hidden in your darkness, I can only read you from your best sides, always shining in the morning sun. So I shut my critical eye and believe even your impossible face to be real. And I shut my critical mind and believe even broken hearts can heal. And I feel. I close my eyes and feel the night lift me and envelop me in its hidden hands until I’m once more just a part of it all, and I don’t have to see you to know that you’re here. I just have to feel. I just have to believe in make-believe.