I’m in love with the thought of love. The thought of having someone love me unconditionally and knowing that it’s only me they love like that. A hopeless romantic would we call it?
I have dreams of being in an apartment, you finding my books, my books of poems that have me wrapped around their finger by the stories that are told by a few simple words. You’ll see all of the pages I felt the need to fold over because of how powerful the words are. In that instance when I catch you reading them you’ll know the real me. You’ll already know how I feel about love and heartbreak. You’ll know that I’m fragile and even though that may be scary for you, just know I’m strong enough to take care of myself. Sometimes words just hit you, they stick with you like lyrics from your favorite song. I have many, too many to remember but within those books you’ll see. Then I’ll show you my poems I’ve written about you after all of this time. Poems I’ve kept a secret, poems that express my feelings more than the words that physically come out of my mouth.
I’ve dreamt of sitting on a kitchen counter at 3AM with you, discussing whatever our minds come up with. I’ve seen myself tangled up with you on a Sunday morning, not leaving bed because it’ll be our lazy day. But we’ll have to think about who got up last Sunday to get us coffee, it was me, now it’s your turn. You’ll know me, you’ll accept me, you’ll be okay with my flaws and the scars I’ve had for years. They’ll fade but you would still kiss every single one.
Now I just have to find you.