Beneath its soft, sensory images, the poem is about missing someone deeply and wishing a love could exist openly. The speaker piles up small, gentle things: pink roses, dandelions, strawberry candles, the smell of milk tea, a half-heard melody. Each one stands in for "my lady," who is described almost as a blessing, her hair like "a waterfall in the desert," something rare and life-giving in a dry place.
The mood is tender but aching. The speaker admits to crying and craving, and mentions a "deadly" secret the two share, one that could tear them apart. The poem suggests this secret is why they are kept distant, and that the people who would understand are far away. The title, "Our Reality," then turns bitter against the final line. "I would kill for a reality like that" implies that what is described is a dream, not something the speaker actually has. The closing line's blunt violence cuts through the earlier softness and shows how desperate the wanting has become.