The existence of a projected reality or the reality of a projected existence?

Deny any trace that this existed anywhere else except the confinement of my own imagination, Were you really nothing more then a projection I screened over someone else in order to have my dreams become a segment in my warped reality? 

The whispers of all that i claimed you to be clinged to the delicate whisps of hair on the back of your neck eventually in time smothered by the hands of another, I’ve finally lost track of all but our digital history as the stories we once created are slowly becoming nothing more then trigger memories,

The scents still synonymous with our last ditch survival still maintain a poignancy as the fragrances filter through and flash our lives into mere milliseconds, comprehend all the mistakes and manufacture the next beginning with the hint of a brand new aroma,

Deconstruct the timeframes and make amendments that grant us the infinity of time, resist trying to watch the world through a projection and focus on the possibilities of a grounded reality, wanting nothing more then to loosen the grip of the torture that I’ve always handed to my  dream based causality.