Pigment

I remember the dream where you asked me if I love you and I answered back with a question but truthfully all I want to answer was I do. I am wishing from then on until now that twas really just a dream, a pigment of my imagination because if not, i would regret it for the rest of my life. I must confess when i think of you i think of love, i think that i do, i do love you but i am scared. Your the only one that I am scared to love, scared to wish you to be mine. I can only love you unbeknownst to you though I need to move on and forget this as im not good at unrequited love and you did love someone right? You have slapped my faced with that truth shattering my wishfulness, shattering the last straw of hope. If you only knew then maybe just maybe the pigment would be a clearer picture, a wonderful painting.

Confused,