Be Real My Love Poem by Tribhuvan Mendiratta

Skin so smooth - nearly translucent.
I wonder if she's really there,
Or will dissolve at the slightest touch.
I never risk it. I must make sure.
I whisper things into her phantom ear.
I whisper what I want.
I whisper what I know she wants
And cannot or will not say.
The blush begins in her cheeks,
A rosy, frosted red.
It flushes her entire face
And down her neck.
That's where I want
To kiss her first,
Even before her lips,
To feel her pulse.
To know she's real.