Beautiful Dreamer

I sat with him, in a dark corner of a coffee shop called "The Neptune". I drank my coffee slow and watched him light up his last cigarette. We listened to the poet on stage, doing a very beautiful rendition of Poe's "The Conqueror Worm" I looked at him looking at the poet on stage, I studied every line of his perfect lips and every star in his brilliant olive eyes and I almost gasped when his dark hair fell over his face, enveloping him. I noticed a tattoo on his wrist, a quote from Macbeth. It had hardly been an hour since we had met, but I felt like I had known him for years. It was a full house, thats the only reason he had sat with me, we were perfect strangers until that night but in my head I couldn't help but think it was fate. We had a few meaningless conversations through the night, some about nothing, some about everything. It was just so nice to hear him speak, his words made me drunk. Out of all the pointless New York nights I had spent at that little place I am glad it was tonight that I met him. He made what had been a terrible day seem a hell of a lot better. The night ended just before eleven and we both left unwillingly. He slipped me his number and kissed me on the cheek. A mysterious stranger, a perfect creation, a beautiful dreamer, left before I even caught his name.