my perfect love
My perfect love is 5’10 and tall, lovely but not to lovely, quiet but loud, and graceful but not too refined.
They need to be 5’10 or taller to catch me when I fall from the unrequited love cloud that broke under the pressure of vulnerabilities that weighed it down. They need to be tall so that they can catch me when my molten wings flee my body and the ocean holds her hands out to me and attempts to drown my cries with soothing waves. They need to be tall enough to wrap their arms around my waist so that they can bring me down to earth again after I got lost swimming through the galaxy trying to piece together the orbit.
They need to be lovely so they can be my world when the world is cracking under the noxious fumes of its societal fuckery.
They need to be lovely so they can distract me from death, whose hands will dangle over my shoulder and rest her ***** upon my ******* and whisper sweet fulminations while wiping my tears with her pungent mantle. They need to be lovely so that I can pretend love exists and I can pretend that love is not made up by those who found happiness in people they’ve sparked with and not AIs that attempt to take over the world.
They need to be withdrawn because silence fills the gap in my heart; it brings serene happiness and languid joy into my full body and teems with bright flares of boorishness. They need to be loud when the silence gets thunderous and chokes me into compliance; they need to be loud when the world stops rotating. The ghost of the people before me try to make my life theirs, when they fill it with melancholy my lover shall be able to conquer it when they cast hell upon those around me, my lover should draw their ****** sword and pierce them with the glory they’ve held.
They need to be graceful, because the world needs grace, they need to dance around the cracks in my person, and jeté around the deformity of my mental health. They need to be dignified, so that at least one of us hold dignity in the relationship, because I, as I am, have been incapable of keeping my dignity to the light of acceptance since my birth, they need to be graceful because when I am tripping over my hubris and falling over my obtuse declarations. They can save me from the humiliation that is my existence and hide me from the mockery that has carried on through my life like a shadow.
They need to be everything I am not so I can finally be at peace knowing that there is someone for me, that’ll love and accept me, that’ll indulge me and dote when my unachievable expectations get the best of me and my world moves on without me. They need to be able to do the improbable and defy the odds. They need to be able to be idyllic and transcendental because that is what they’re here for. they need to be my perfect lover and not leave me for another when this “perfect” becomes defective and broken. They need not forget me and my existence just the surface deficiencies.
They need to be my world as I am theirs, obsessed and their only fixation is me. They need to be nonsensical, so I could make up excuses as to why my lungs fill with lead when I talk about love.
My perfect love. My perfect love is mine. My perfect love is a lie.