This should be the part of the story where the good guy comes along – sparkle in his eye, a brave smile, knowing what he wants and how to get it – and steals my heart away.
I'm ready now. I’m ready to meet him. Where is he… right now?
I’m standing tall and straight, eyes open wide. I know exactly what to say. I’d recognise him now, I’d be brave. I am all of those things. I’m the best I’ve ever been. Working straight out of the box; I don’t need any more training, just loving.
I’d fall into his arms, I wouldn’t run away. The soft piano music would play. There would be angels and we could both laugh, as we chased them away, holding each other’s hands.
I wouldn’t let go, if he promised not to too. No promises though, there wouldn’t be any need for those, redundant they’d be, as they say. Rules of how to play, we’d know them already. They’d be given, easy as the wind on the ocean, or the twilight in the sky. Fingers together, eyes locked on eyes, if we felt like it we would cry. Tears of joy, for fear of touching because we’d never let go.
Who is he? Come out and play. Show me I’m good enough to be the best me. What is he doing? What would he say? I’ll close my eyes and do what I am doing. And when I look up, to see that group pass by, that man laugh, that child ask why, I’ll look the other way and there he will be.
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