the letter

To You,

My dear Mr. Perfect, Please don’t be perfect. Be rugged and edgy. Don’t sandpaper your rawness away. I won’t mind if you miss a few words when you sing my favorite song, or have that out-of-bed hair like almost always. You should be a wordsmith, the master of words. I won’t mind if I am lost in them. But my dear you, since I choose you, you know that words don’t remain mere, when they are said, when they are meant.  Mean what you say, say what you mean. My dear you, I won’t expect you read out Keats or Hemmingway to me, but when you look at me when I read them out to you, *the look made with all sweet accord* do let me know that you are understanding all I say, and more.

My dear Mr. Special, walk with me in the rains, let me kiss you when we do, just hold my hand and lead me. Don’t stand there with an umbrella when it rains…pull me out into the rain and get me drenched.
Soaking mock my resistance. Indulge in me. Indulge me.

Let me look up to you, with respect. Look at you with love. Look forward for bliss.

Hey you, you know this don’t you? Just don’t be too easy or I might look right past you, or be too difficult that I would not bother at all. Just be right, be just right. Like the balance when I am weak you hold me up, when you are I would do the same. Too sweet is not what I want and bitter is not what lasts. Just the right mix will preserve ‘US’ forever.

Call me up at bizarre times at bizarre places for bizarre things. Make it impossible for me to fake and when you see that I am losing out kidnap me and save me. be my guardian angel. Be what you are, make up for what I lack. Me, complete me.

…..(to be continued)

Love, Me.