I’m been waiting to meet you. Ive been writing about you for years.
You’re an answer to a question I still haven’t asked and I’m hoping, God I’m really hoping, I’ll be a little more finished when I meet you because I’m not done, not even close. I’m still making myself , I’m not ready to see where you’ll fit in.
I hope you’re kind. Way kinder than me. But I hope your heart is a little stronger and your lips a little looser. Two quiet bleeding hearts doesn’t seem like a good idea.
I used to dream about you, at least, I think it was you.
I’m not sure I believe you exist, but in the same way I go to church every Sunday and pray every night, I will write these poems for you.