I want him to have a beard.
I want him to read.
I want him to feel the weight of words on his chest.
I want him to always feel his heart skip a beat when I tell him I love him.
I want him to know the value of ‘I love you’.
I want him to be educated.
I want him to look through things.
I want him to overlook superficials.
I want him to be tall.
I want him to be sportive.
I want him to be well built.
I want him to take care of himself,
I want him to take care of me too.
I want him to worthy his family.
I want him to put God first.
I want him to have ambitions.
I want him to feel comfortable with me through silences.
I want him to be home, my home.
I want him to have black hair.
I want him to be social.
I want him to be proud of me.
I want him to have brown eyes.
I want him to make me believe in forever.
I want him to appreciate the little stuff.
I want him to make me feel safe.
I want him to give up his soul to singers singing their sorrow.
I want him to value the little things.
I want him to wear tuxedos.
I want him to wear dress shirts and ties.
I want him to find comfort in pain.
I want him to despise smoking.
I want him to see that enjoying your life is beyond partying and getting drunk.
I want him to keep his promises.
I want him to see women as equal to men as 1 is equal to 1.
I want him to like kids.
I want him to be committed.
I want him to understand the emptiness I feel inside,
I want him to fill it.
I want him to be brave.
I want him to be protective.
I want him to not be ashamed to cry.
I want him to support me.
I want him to get along with the people I love.
I want him to be the missing piece that completes my puzzle.
I want him to be my source of peace.
I want him to hug me tight, and never let go.
I want him to want me.

Or maybe I don’t want any of those things, maybe I just want him to fall for me and catch me as I fall for him too.