I don’t want a perfect you.
I don’t want an imagination
Resting on commercialized ideals
And mis-spent laments.
No.
I want your messiness and chaos
And moments that urk me,
And crazy eyes and silent times
And hugs that will never end
Because forever is a time
I will be left thinking of you.
And just maybe,
If I count my lucky stars enough,
I will be right there
Next to you,
Smiling,
Winding my clock backwards
Elongating time to expand
These moments that make up you.
