but not in the sense everyone thinks they do
who gives a fuck what my favorite color is
what I like to do on sunny days
where I like to spend it
or with who
what size pants I wear
do I like t-shirts or dresses
as if these were grave confessions
I want someone who knows my blood
the way it runs
in which direction my guts lay
where my bones bend
from the inside out and vice versa
someone who can see thru my pretence and the veil of my existence
the persistence to make them see something that is not there
hell, even the reasons for the crabbiness during my period
I want someone who can spell my name backwards and forwards
and actually love the sound of it on the days when I’m a real asshole to them and the world
I want someone who is unafraid to travel to the pits of my psyche
and help me grow flowers on the dead soil of my mind
I want someone who can scream at me in lyrics when I’m wrong
so I can turn it into a country song
later on
I want someone who will bathe my feet as if Jesus were watching in approval from the next room
remembering how loving it felt when he had it done to him
I want someone who will be quiet thru my noise
who’s noise can blend with mine and when necessary overcome it
I want someone who knows the cracks in my soul
and becomes the mortar to make them less so
someone who knows the sway of my crooked spine from bearing the seed that may not be his
kissing it anyways with reverence
who travels the dark circles of my sleepless eyes and sees pools of beauty and bliss
someone who caresses my imperfections as if the word had been made for the most beautiful parts of a woman’s body
I want someone who will carve the happiness out of me
as Michelangelo did his David
I want someone to know me
like God knows his son and the book he inspired
the one who will know tears are coming
and will shower me with his own so I don’t realize I’m shedding mine
I want someone who will carry me thru the puddles of life
so that I may lay my coat down
that his feet may not know the cold rain
who lays the palms of his hands not on my shoulders
but my lower back
that he may push me forward when I am most resistant
I want someone who will ingest my salty jokes as if they were made of candy
repeating them to others as a stenograph in a trial
someone who will dance with me when the music is over and creates sounds to keep us bound
someone who believes in me as if I were he and had no choice but to see us as one entity
the one who will say I love you with his hands because to say the words always seem scattered and small without his touch to compliment it
that is what I want for me
I will be the same
for the beloved someone who really sees me
