I'm looking for a reader, someone who grew up with books as her friend. Her coming-of-age story coinciding with those inked narratives. Plot builds character.
She's available. Her heart beats, and she'll let me hear it on her chest. With every beat, a glimpse of humanity. They say, the strongest cities are those without walls.
I'm looking for someone who's curious. She'll ask me to run away with her, and she'll still want to kiss me when we return from our adventure. We’ll study methods of travel--together on land, on sea, on sky. And our glances will have their own language. We’ll make our own alphabet, we’ll form our own words and sentences and paragraphs with only our eyes.
She's honest. She's smoothed out her broken shards and turned them into mosaics. She applies lotion to her own scars.
I'm looking for someone to laugh at my jokes. They're dark and horrible and true and amazing. We'll be inappropriate together behind closed doors.
She'll be beautiful. Not in a way that turns heads on the street, but in a muted way. I will fall in love with when she looks down in shyness and nevertheless feels comfortable telling me what she's thinking. She will let me tell her how beautiful I find her, as I give her and make her feel all the things she deserves. She will be at a place where she's able to accept.
I'm looking for someone who will like me because of and not in spite of my weirdness. She will think my ability to come up with the perfect metaphor for every situation is adorable, and will find my random trivia irresistible. She'll be blown away by my knowledge of current events, and will be torn between wanting to show me off and keep me to herself.
She will ask me to dance in the darkness with her. We will build a house in the woods away from everyone. We’ll make fires, and nourish ourselves, and be satiated, and we will say grace.