I’ll find you because you wear glasses or take pictures or make music or write beautiful words. We’ll talk about theories and futures and the way the world works, and you’ll admire my curiosity, which you’ve been trained to think uncommon in members of my sex.
We’ll argue for sport, and you’ll puff your feathers to show me how impressive and intelligent and savvy you are. I’ll laugh at your jokes, and you’ll think how great it is that someone finally gets you. You’ll think how rare it is to make a connection like this. You won’t tell me if that intimidates you.
I’ll think how much like the others you are, but I’ll be charmed nonetheless.
You’ll take me to bed, and you’ll find my intensity translates. You’ll be both shocked and unsurprised, and you’ll never admit to intimidation. I’ll worry you’re not enough, but I’ll never say a word.
You’ll show me your world and your tastes, and I’ll work hard to understand them. I’ll work hard to love them. I’ll keep my own perferences secondary, something for later, because I’ll want to know everything about you first. You’ll fail to notice, and I’ll fail to question my motives.
You’ll wonder how I got to be so giving, so pliable, so passionate, and I’ll allude to a past riddled with trysts. You’ll listen to my adventures, and you’ll hear only as much as you want. You’ll relegate the rest to a realm of hazy fantasy, divorcing it from me, from the reality of the person before you. You’ll see a charming imp, unmarred by darkness, unfettered by pain.
I’ll see your ignorance as acceptance, and I’ll begin to grow comfortable. I’ll share more stories and feelings and thoughts, and I’ll gradually reveal the tumult beneath my breezy veneer. I’ll make my chaos undeniable, and though I’ll ask no more than understanding, you’ll feel insufficient and afraid.
You’ll point to reasons for your fear, like my emotions, even though I handle them well, or my insecurity, even though it requires little of you, or my sexual appetite, even though I’m happy with how things are between us. You’ll tell yourself you’re justified, and you’ll begin to shut me out. I’ll feel it in an instant.
We’ll drift apart, and I’ll ache in my bones as you retreat further and further away. I’ll cry out, helpless, a desperate no, a pitiful please don’t go. But I’ll be too late. You’ll be gone.
I’ll stand here once again on the empty shore of another failed could have been, another never was. I’ll feel salty despair lapping at my feet, and I’ll look across endless miles for the faintest shadow of a fellow lost soul.