I’m sitting across your living room watching you be domestic and perfect and I can’t help but wanna know everything about you…like…
I want to know if you remember the first person that broke your heart. And if you remember them, did you forgive them?
If you didn’t forgive them. Why not?
If you don’t remember, do you ever wonder why? Did you block them out of your memory because the pain was to much to handle?
I want to know if you see ended relationships as failures, or if they’re the grounds for perfect friendships.
If they are failures, can you find even a glimmer of something worthwhile amongst the rubble?
If grounds for perfect friendship, will you forget that there was ever anything more?
If you can, will you wonder if there truly was anything more?
I want to know what you see when you look in the mirror. Do you love the galaxy of freckles sprinkled across your nose and cheeks?
Do you lose yourself while looking into the ocean that is your eyes the way I do? Or do you make yourself cry by looking at yourself through the lense of Vogue.
I want to know who told you that your beauty could be defined by staring at a shard of glass.
I want to know about the last time you cried out of frustration. Happiness. Pain.
I want to know if you hid your face from view. If you turned on the shower and locked the door, hoping that no one would hear you.
Or did you look the world full in the face as fountains cascaded over your eyelids.
I want to know what comes to mind when you hear vulnerablity.
Does it make you shudder with fear, or do you think hiding your heart makes you the most afraid.
See I want to know what you make of the miracle that is your life. Your story.
Do you think your failures and heart breaks made you stronger, or do you try your hardest to lock them away?
I want to know if you think you’re hard to love.
And if you do, I want to know who told you that love had to be earned.
I want to know if you want to get married. And if you do, where?
I want to know if marriage is nothing more than a piece of paper.
Or if you see it as a promise. A binding commitment.
I want to know what you wished your name was when you were 12.
I want to know how old you were when you discovered you were gay.
I want to know what you think the inside of ant holes really look like.
I want to know if you think the sky makes the ocean blue, or if the ocean floor paints the picture.
I want to know where you go when the noise of the world gets too loud, or when the silence in the air hangs too heavy.
I want to know what you think of the color burgundy.
I want to know if your 7th grade self was more afraid of dying than they were living. What about your current self?
I want to know why you think grass is spelled g-r-a-s-s and not l-e-a-f.
I want to know why how you think we all came to be in this planet that we call earth. Why do we call it earth?
I want to know all there is to know about you but I guess for now…
Hi. My name is Gabrielle. I like you…& my favorite color is black. What’s yours?