(#thebatman #poetry #poem) (other pov this time lol)
in your dreams, your hand runs up the side of his face and he doesn't smile, but he doesn't move away either. you stroke his mask, as if it were his skin, then tear it off. underneath, there's— nothing. you always wake up at this part. as if the reality of what it could be alarms you so much that your body can only jolt away from the idea.
you don't know why you bother. you're no fool, you understand the real appeal – and it /is/ the mask. there's no reason at all to dig beneath perfection. he stands like a statue on the other side of bullet-proof glass and pushes you away without touching you. he's dark water and the night sky reflected in it. you run your hand through it and it pours out between your fingers, because that's what it wants.