Myriad

I want a women.

Someone I can live with.

Someone I can love.

Someone who'll be worth the effort.

I think back on the last time.

It feels like forever ago.

Like cobwebs and the desert sands are fighting for the right to suck the life out of me.

When was the last time I felt... anything?

Have I ever?
Come even close?

But I know that feeling.

Or think I do.

That warm contented feeling that allows you to finally breath.
Like the whole universe just performed the Heimlich maneuver on your soul.
Clearing out the cobwebs and the dust. The sand and the silt.

Freeing you.
To be who you are.

To be
Who you really want to be.

Not the shell
Not the facade
Not the face that you present to the world.

But the real you.

Really real.

The one you've always wanted to be.

Sometimes, you take what you can get.
Sometimes, you don't make the best decisions.
Sometimes, you wish you had never been born.
Sometimes, you wish that you had inspired someone.

Because, damn.

If you could be someone's muse
Then maybe your life
Would mean something.

And your existence
Would become
Poetry.

And that
Would make it
All worth it.

Heat.
Burning fire.

Losing control.

Lost in echoes of word and deed and mind.

Too insane, too happy, too kind.

Out of darkness, I beseech you.

In those depths, I cannot reach you.

Let it happen.

Let it die.

Because you need to
Set yourself adrift.

Not for freedom.

Not for peace.

But because you can.


Because you must.


Because if you don't, everything you ever cared about or believed in, or thought to be true... would just vanish.

And disappear.


Forever.

Is she the Perfect Woman?

Does such a thing even exist?

Is she just fucked up enough to make me happy?


Who knows?


Not me.


But what I do know is that when I'm around her I feel comfortable. Content. Relaxed. At ease.

I can say what I feel and mean what I say and not hold back a thing.

Ideal woman?

Does such a thing even exist?

Shit.

Do any of our ideals really exist?

Are we just faking it?

I think that, perhaps, this may be the closest I've ever been to really loving someone.

For who they are.

And not just for what I wanted them to be.