I dream of a life with you

An apartment in one of the world’s best cities and maybe a french bulldog or two

Warm and cosy with all our favourite things, old and new

Baby, I want all this and more with you

Our den will be done up with art and old movie posters of your choice

And will house your million books, my television, your music device

The coffee tables will have colourful coasters from Mumbai and Madras

Our house will be tastefully done up- nothing cluttered or crass

Our kitchen will have plenty of seeping sunlight

The fridge reflecting our world travels with magnets all shiny and bright

Our four poster bed will see us kissle and cuddle all night

As much as it will witness us argue, shout, cry and fight

But here’s the thing- while I build sandcastles in the air

Without warning, you leave me in despair

Citing fundamental irreconcilable differences

My incessant future planning being top of your dispute references

So now I ask myself what good ever did these futile dreams do?

Cause as much as I delude myself a bit or two

I now know I can never have you

Did my want of a future together ruin us forever true?