Broad shoulders, deep dark questioning eyes, a voice I love listening to and intelligence, a sense of humour and the wonderful gift of listening — everything I thought impossible to find in just one man. And here you are. Proving all my pre-conceived notions wrong, giving me the hope that I always wanted.
You’re everything that I could have imagined Mr. Perfect to be and yet, I know fully well, that you will never be mine.
Yes, you are straight... I know... and one small minute part of me rejoices that you are. If you were gay and didn’t choose me, I might have had no hope to believe in anymore.
I can flirt with you because you are straight and you probably think it’s really cute of me to be so shamelessly throwing myself at you — it probably is!
All I want to know is, am I wrong to want to be embraced by you? Am I wrong to have watched you while you slept beside me, punishing my heart for wanting to hold you and run my fingers through your hair? Am I wrong to want you so much, when you are the ONLY man in this whole world to have ever made me feel safe?
Why do you hug me so all-encompassing-ly? Am I wrong to hope for you to turn gay from every single conscious corner of my living soul? Am I wrong to wish I was the kind of woman you would want to be with?
Wanting to be with you has rekindled the vulnerable me and in the warmth of your ample, beautiful long neck and wonderfully shaped torso, I hope to bury my face, my love, my insecurities and my burdens that I have come to call life.
So what if I can never make love to you?
If one day I can hold you and shamelessly show you how much I care, and be held by you, like no other, as my body melts into a warm indulged pulp — I would have seen paradise and hence I shall die peacefully.