He will come into my life like a comic book superhero, because he will be smooth enough to pull off a suit and tie, but clumsy enough to make me feel comfortable. And he will be strong. Strong enough to lift me up when the world tells me that I’m not good enough to breathe today, strong enough to take my hand and pull me out of the sea of negativity that I sometimes find myself swimming in, and strong enough to be proud of me for doing the best that I can. And he will be safe, safe enough to share all of my flaws with and safe enough to know that he will never throw them back in my face even though I will probably deserve it.
He will come into my life like a slow jam. Because he will know the exact rhythm that my heart beats to and he will know all of the words to my body’s song. Words like curvy and soft, supple and warm. He will know when to speed up, and when to slow down, and when to stop and let me catch my breath so I can take an escalator down from the cloud he placed me on. He will have hands that play me like piano keys and fingers that pluck my strings of passion the way Carlos Santana might play the guitar at a bonfire on a summer night.
He will come into my life like a book of poetry. Because he will be filled with pages describing how my lips taste like the best parts of all of the seasons, like cotton candy, parades, peppermint, and resurrection. He’ll have verses about how my hair reminds him of outer space because it is dark and shiny and makes him want to reach for something higher. He’ll have poems about how I remind him of mother earth because when he is with me he only thinks about wanting to grow into a better person. But he will already be the best.
He will come into my life like punctuation. Because he will understand that the curve of a question mark is nothing more than a winding road to the right answer. He will understand that hungry exclamation points lead to ardent evenings and rumpled sheets. And he will know that, together, we are a perfect statement, period.