I want you.
I do.
I want to sleep next to you.
I want to have morning coffee with you.
I want to tell you about the stupid things that happen during my day.
I want to cook dinner with you.
I want to shower the day off with you and stroke your hair as you relax before bed.
I want to talk deep into the night with my cheek resting in the supple skin where your neck meets your shoulder.
I want to kiss your bearded jaw line and fall asleep nestled against you; fit around you
where I belong.

You're a different place.
It's understanding.
It's home.
It's pure bliss.

I choke back tears that I know are irrational.
You scared me.
Knowing, imagining what I would feel to no longer know you existed somewhere was a terrifying thought experiment.

You're unsure your potential is worth keeping around.
You love life enough to leave it and protect everyone from you.
**** your protection. You know how I feel about that.
"Everything will be okay"?
"It always is"?
Nothing in me will feel okay until I can wrap my arms around you and feel you again.

I have so much to give.
So much to offer.
And no where to put it
It's this constant feeling
Like I know what I am, what I want, what I need
and there's nothing to do with it right now.
I'm waiting to stumble upon someone with the same needs and wants
and massive soul with too much to give.
I'm waiting on someone to wake up and live life as much as I do;
to just have this huge energy that wants to play and mingle with my massive soul and huge energy.
Do you reach a time where people suddenly love life?
Do people start to feel more alive
or do they stay mostly dead
I don't want to feel dead.
My vulnerable open loud insides need people with the same guts.
I need people who feel familiar;
people who love loudly and often.

There once was a time when I thought that if we just spent time together and tried on one another that we'd find we were ill fit for one another;

that we would move on rather than sit around in ill fitted clothing.

What I didn't account for is you becoming my favorite thing to wear.

You don't fit improperly at all, rather you're the most comfortable thing I've ever worn.

If people were to be created in pairs
or halves,
he is my other.
He is complimentary.
Designed for me.
Fit for me.
We are a matched set.
He is my kind.
And I am his.