I don't mean to fall in love with you more everyday. I know it's not fair. To love someone you don't get to see everyday. To hold every moment. To sing to in the night as time drifts thorough sleeping heart beats. I know it's not fair to love you this much. Especially when there is nothing to know and hold on to as a reciprocating function of lust, desire and romantic foreverness. But I do. Despite failings and fall shorts and amazings and perfections. Despite the fact that I will never live up to your standards. Despite the fact that you live by rules of conduct and social order of your tribe. I am a water baby floating and an air head bobbing in the little receptacle of this heart and this muddled container of a head. But I think of you daily. I pine for your nightly and hope for you continuously. Like a character from a TV show. Like an after school special. Like a street kid on a roof top staring at stars. My hopes and longing are crushed in a a social order and beauty standard I wasn't born into. I was born into perfect Irish features and Canadian sensibilities. Both of which are kindly and nice. No exotic vavoom just simple quiet lovely that does not speak out. Just a subtle elegance and admirable wonder. No stunning, no gorgeousness, just simple beauty and lovely. Just isn't-she-pretty. If only my heart could make up for my body and face. If only my creative soul could make up for my lack of worldly success. If only my unhampered will could make up for my unwillingness to be a socialite. If only my constant helpful nature could make up for my lack of money. If only my loyalty could make up for my unforgiving idealism. It's easy to love you. I am used to loving people that ignore me. I grew up in a complete state of neglect. Its easy to love someone who is never around. They don't do anything wrong. They stay eternally perfect. They break your heart everyday and everyday you can rebuild it with the imaginary conversations. You can rebuild it with all the things you would be doing if they were with you. You can start a whole romance with a perhaps if. You can build a whole love on split seconds of attention given. I have learned to survive off that. I have learned to survive off 30 seconds of love. My life trained me my life my love splattered mess of blood soaked life of fleeting fleeing love. I could live off nothing. Should I is the question.
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| He is a dream to me. |
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| What words? I have none. He lays me cold and speechless before him. No man does that to me. |
