I do not have to meet you
so I can say that you're beautiful.
I know that you are,
and I know that you are gentle,
I know that you are kind,
welcoming, and forgiving.
I do not know but one day,
maybe I'll meet you on a busy day
as a patient or as a doctor,
or maybe on a warm Saturday,
as you call my name
written on a venti frappuccino.
All these uncertainties
will eventually lead me to that one moment
where I can say, "it makes sense now."
Why I had to hold the wrong hands,
why I had to lie in wrong rooms.
One day, I'll wake up and look,
there's the warmest smile in the world,
with the softest eyes and gentlest touch.
And he'll be angry at me sometimes,
but never disrespectful, never violent.
I will hold on to the many years
that I will spend not knowing you.
Until then, I will let everything
to not make sense yet,
and ready myself for the perfect moment.
one day, I will read my poems to you.