Blank

I wish the boy in my dreams didn't look like you.
I wish his hair wasn't dark like yours.
I wish his eyes weren't brown,
And he didn't have your lips.

Because he holds me like you hold me,
And he kisses me like you kiss me,
With teeth and lips together
In soft-sweet moments that make our hearts beat fast,
Together,
His smell a catalyst to my mind's disruption,
Molding itself in,
Never letting go.
He feels like you.

But he's not.
Because he tells me he loves me.
He tells me it will work
And he won't let go.
He doesn't tease
And he isn't afraid
And he wants me through the distance.

But he still looks like you.
His voice is still your voice.
His skin is still your skin.
And his quickly beating heart is still yours,
Beating from 300 miles away
Against my breast.

But why can't his face be blank?