I'm searching for you

I don't want you to be perfect, not in any way.

I want you to dry my tears, when I cry and I will dry yours and laugh for you, when you can't laugh anymore.

I want to talk about music. About Tchaikovsky. Want you to listen to his 5th symphony, while you just hold me as close as possible.

I want to see the opera at night, when all the other lights have died. Want to swing my legs next to yours when we sit on a bench, overlooking the lake and the church on the hill.

I want you to listen to me while I tell you about my first love.

Want you to hold my hand, when I cry silently in the opera. When the actors confess their love to each other.

And when they sing beautifully.

Want you to hold me at night, when I can't sleep.

Want you to sit next to me with a cup of tea, reading. Afterwards, we'll discuss what we've read. The classics and the novels and the poetry we've read.

Want to take you on long, slow walks when it rains.

I don't care how you look, what gender you are, what religion.

I just want you to love me and I will try to love you with all that I am.

But "you" are a figment of my imagination.

A dream, a wish that will never come true.

For - who could ever love me?