He will appear out of nowhere with his confident stature,
animated laugh,
the body that you could only assume is an illusion,
comparable to a Greek god.
He will draw you with his beaming features-
his perfect mouth upon his perfect face with his perfect eyes
that are looking only at you
as if you are worthy to even see something so beautiful.
His radiant allure derives from a level of bliss and euphoria you'd never seen anyone acquire
and you don't want to leave his light.
His intellect will entice you
even more so than the essence of his beauty
and his soul will mirror kindness and freedom.
You will deny him any interest despite his perfection
and you will do this for a long time.
You'll wake up to kiss his face in the mornings
and you'll see the emotion in his eyes
when he tells you what you do to him.
You'll avoid the conversation when it's staring into the face of the future and asking questions about tomorrow.
He'll cook for you (significantly better than anything you could cook yourself)
and he'll watch your favorite cartoons and
you'll relay inside jokes that make you both feel at home with each other.
This will be both comforting and terrifying and
you'll wonder why you won't let yourself feel the way he wants you to.
You'll scan his face and find it exactly as flawless as it's always been, abnormally beautiful even,
and you cannot decide why he's there wanting you.
But he is.
And your weariness will leave you on emotional standby and undoubtedly conflicted.
I'm not sure why the paper-perfect never feels perfect to me. But it doesn't. And I'd like to reflect on that unfortunate phenomenon.
