There is one for me.
There is one man out there for me. He’s quietly waiting, working, playing, sleeping, and unaware of me and the love that is to be, but he’s there, nonetheless.
He’s the one who I can share it all with--the hopes, the dreams, and the craziness.
He’s the one who will listen without judgment to all my secrets and, turn, be willing to tell me his.
He is the one who is not afraid to shed a tear when our family pet tragically passes and equally unafraid to chase me to the bedroom and toss me on the bed when he feels playful.
He is the one who hears the thoughts I never speak. He senses my pain, my happiness, and my love for him simply because he can.
He looks at me and sees a lost girl who needs her hand to be held when others see a needy, opinionated bitch. He knows about my past yet asks of me only the present and our future.
He believes I make him whole. He believes in my stories. He believes in me.
He is a happy, fun-loving, loving, giving human being who wakes each day striving to be happier, more fun-loving, and increasingly loving and giving because of me.
He adores his family and takes mine in as his own. He shares those things that are sacred to him and makes me unafraid to share mine as well.
He dances with me in the moonlight in the kitchen in the middle of the night when we can’t sleep and simply smiles when I ask for the one hundredth time if he took the trash out.
When my heart whispers “I need you,” he hears it as a scream from across a crowded room and makes his way to me.
I am, along with his family, a priority. He may not be able to, but will always at least desire to be with me before work.
He will look at me in the morning, hair a mess, bare-faced, wrinkled pajamas and terrible morning breath and see beauty only.
He will notice others—prettier, more successful, younger—but will only smile as he now understands that prettier, more successful and younger is not me—and what he wants most is me.
There is one for me.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
There Is One For Me
There is one for me.
There is one man out there for me. He’s quietly waiting, working, playing, sleeping, and unaware of me and the love that is to be, but he’s there, nonetheless.
He’s the one who I can share it all with--the hopes, the dreams, and the craziness.
He’s the one who will listen without judgment to all my secrets and, turn, be willing to tell me his.
He is the one who is not afraid to shed a tear when our family pet tragically passes and equally unafraid to chase me to the bedroom and toss me on the bed when he feels playful.
He is the one who hears the thoughts I never speak. He senses my pain, my happiness, and my love for him simply because he can.
He looks at me and sees a lost girl who needs her hand to be held when others see a needy, opinionated bitch. He knows about my past yet asks of me only the present and our future.
He believes I make him whole. He believes in my stories. He believes in me.
He is a happy, fun-loving, loving, giving human being who wakes each day striving to be happier, more fun-loving, and increasingly loving and giving because of me.
He adores his family and takes mine in as his own. He shares those things that are sacred to him and makes me unafraid to share mine as well.
He dances with me in the moonlight in the kitchen in the middle of the night when we can’t sleep and simply smiles when I ask for the one hundredth time if he took the trash out.
When my heart whispers “I need you,” he hears it as a scream from across a crowded room and makes his way to me.
I am, along with his family, a priority. He may not be able to, but will always at least desire to be with me before work.
He will look at me in the morning, hair a mess, bare-faced, wrinkled pajamas and terrible morning breath and see beauty only.
He will notice others—prettier, more successful, younger—but will only smile as he now understands that prettier, more successful and younger is not me—and what he wants most is me.
There is one for me.
There is one man out there for me. He’s quietly waiting, working, playing, sleeping, and unaware of me and the love that is to be, but he’s there, nonetheless.
He’s the one who I can share it all with--the hopes, the dreams, and the craziness.
He’s the one who will listen without judgment to all my secrets and, turn, be willing to tell me his.
He is the one who is not afraid to shed a tear when our family pet tragically passes and equally unafraid to chase me to the bedroom and toss me on the bed when he feels playful.
He is the one who hears the thoughts I never speak. He senses my pain, my happiness, and my love for him simply because he can.
He looks at me and sees a lost girl who needs her hand to be held when others see a needy, opinionated bitch. He knows about my past yet asks of me only the present and our future.
He believes I make him whole. He believes in my stories. He believes in me.
He is a happy, fun-loving, loving, giving human being who wakes each day striving to be happier, more fun-loving, and increasingly loving and giving because of me.
He adores his family and takes mine in as his own. He shares those things that are sacred to him and makes me unafraid to share mine as well.
He dances with me in the moonlight in the kitchen in the middle of the night when we can’t sleep and simply smiles when I ask for the one hundredth time if he took the trash out.
When my heart whispers “I need you,” he hears it as a scream from across a crowded room and makes his way to me.
I am, along with his family, a priority. He may not be able to, but will always at least desire to be with me before work.
He will look at me in the morning, hair a mess, bare-faced, wrinkled pajamas and terrible morning breath and see beauty only.
He will notice others—prettier, more successful, younger—but will only smile as he now understands that prettier, more successful and younger is not me—and what he wants most is me.
There is one for me.
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