Obsessed

Dear Love of my life I haven’t met,

With you I hope I won’t regret

these years spent waiting,

lonely, hating all the little distracting fillers of time, the pick up line, “Can I have your number? Can I give you mine?”

Whoever you are, please don’t stay far, staring and puzzling and avoiding the confuzzling first interactions and gauging reactions.

It annoys, interacting in ploys made to catch, snatch, and attach oneself to another whom you truly bear no wishes of ill health, but you simply take the heart because it’s there, and you don’t care about anyone but yourself.

Dear love, first and true, I can hardly wait to meet you,

I sit and wish and dream and sigh, and I suppose that sounds intimidating to the average guy, but I have hopes, I have plans, and I have an idea of the perfect man. He’s not actually perfect, that would be a fright, but he’s funny and good and he tries to be in the right, dear love of mine, you don’t have to be divine, but trying for perfection, that I wouldn’t mind.

 

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Filed under All Poetry, Love Poems

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