For the One I Love

It is hard to introduce myself, like thoroughly introduce myself. I know who I am, but it can seem pretentious or off-putting. I want you to know I am wired and how I flow. I am like water. I can be stone. Often I am lace.

I am poetic. I find colors and textures and flowers to be as good as any adjective. To be compared to indigo, or sand, or lush vines spreading on the side of bricks is of the utmost complimentary.

I am quiet. But I am present. Always present. There are moments where my mouth and brain refuse to align, and I get embarrassed, so I will refuse to speak anything at all.  This will frustrate you. I know it. It is justified.

I love listening. Every single word you say will mean something to me. It will paint pictures in my skull. I will rejoice. Do not hesitate to whisper me your secrets, or text me what you saw on the sidewalk, or sing me the lyrics to your favorite song. I’m listening.

Listen to my words like a rain storm. You will gauge the water. If it is hard, smashing into the windows, my emotion is clear. I will mostly talk mist. Hushed and delicate.  Prepare yourself for floods, for drought.

I am curious. About everything. I want to explore it all. I want to know things. Anything.  I love newspapers and bookstores and strangers who want to talk.  I am easily entertained. Being outside is enchanting, and finding weird Chinese restaurants that are open 24 hours a day make me hungry for rice.

Just let me wear bright lipsticks and turtlenecks. Let me think that I’m trendy and fashionable, even if you don’t think so. I will stare at my reflection for minutes at a time. Be patient. I’m hard on myself. Way too hard on myself. I’m working on it, I promise. I want cheekbones and hipbones and collarbones. My self esteem will annoy you. Forever.

I will tear my eyebrows out. Do. Not. Sympathize. I will cry at everything and pout if I don’t get my way.  I will mimic your laugh because I love it. I will not sleep if you don’t say goodnight. I will forget to eat, but I’ll be okay. If I’m humming, don’t stop me. Flowers are my favorites.

I don’t know if this is helpful, or if you feel as though I’m not who you have been getting to know these past months. It is easier for me to compare your warmth to a knitted blanket, or your smile to marble.  I think of you as though you are a hazelnut latte from The Mill. That is that.




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