A stupid poem about a stupid boy

I dreamt of you last night. I dreamed of holding you close to me and touching you. I dream of you every night while I lie in bed, all the unspoken things I should've said but wrote down in a stupid notebook instead. Even now I crave you, to touch your face, hold your hand and to be pressed against you so closely that you would leave no space between us. So closely that you couldn't tell where my body began, or where yours ended. So closely that I could nearly forget that it was only a dream.