There is a part of me that laughs when you say that you want someone who isn’t perfect but must have this and that, and that and this, and oh perhaps a bit of this and just the tiniest dash of that, because what you’re not saying is that you want someone who is perfect.
That’s okay, we all tell ourselves that complicated convoluted lie.
The same part of me that laughs is the part of me that sighs because there are moments when I am this and that, and then moments when I’m that and then this, and moments when I have a bit of this and just the tiniest dash of that… but they are just moments (they don’t last forever) and so you’re used to me being the mishmash of it all so obviously I can’t be the right one for you.
I am. You just don’t know it yet. And sometimes, in all my listening to you and not saying a word, that knowledge escapes me too.
I’m the right one because I laugh with you. And also, because I sigh. I’m the right one because while I am also looking for this and that, and that and this, and some magical combination of all and nothing and little and much and stardust and dust mites–
I forget it, all of it, when I look at you, and you at me, and you give me that little smile – that slight upturn at the corner of your lips that isn’t quite a smirk, just a fondly held secret – and I fall to pieces. Completely. Forgetting everything I thought I was looking for.
You see, it is in forgetting that we find. It is in the forgetting that we learn to love. And you, oh you, I do love you.