I was thinking of writing a book about my ideal lover.
And afterwards, I’ll begin to match the intimate behaviors dipped in genuine “love” and attempted to be polished with lust, by all the different men I meet, begging for their chance.
I’ll memorize the book and tote it around in my mind
Memorizing it cover to cover so when I meet him, I can literally say, “You‘ve always been on my mind”.
When I meet him, I’ll get to know everything about him. From his favorite soap to shower in to which veins are most prominent in his hand when he reaches to turn down the radio to tell me why he hated the color blue so much as a child.
As I listen to his story, I’ll watch his eyes light up as he starts off by introducing his mother, and as he mentally travels back in time to give me the full run down, I’ll notice the way he shifts in his seat as he explains his symbolic understanding of “blue” and even though his discomfort over a single word seems quite ridiculous, I’ll grab his hands and massage them, comforting him while I memorize the pattern of his bones through his skin. The way his fingernails grow into square formation.
I’ll fall in love with the texture of his hard working hands.
So that I can truly say I know him like the back of his hand.
Because mine won’t matter when I’m need of a helping one.
I’ll know I’ve found my human when I can dedicate this book to a man I’ve just met but have seemed to have known for ages. The man I wrote a book about before I even met. I’ll know I’ve found my man when I can read him like the lines no other can read between. I’ll allow him to read it when I know he’s ready but my man, my man will also know me so well, he’ll already know the next phrase to his new book before reading.
This life may not be a fairy tale, but who’s to say you can’t fall in love with your best friend & create one.