I want someone to taste the misery on my lips,
someone to sit next to my shattered self-worth
and feel the possibility of me becoming beautiful.
I want someone who understands that rainy days
and misty nights make for splendid scenery,
who would build me a home in the middle
of an everlasting rainstorm, always hiding
our doorstep deep inside the fog.
I want someone to juggle their baggage, though it be
heavier than mine, to burn candles for me,
and hang lanterns from the branches of the trees
that line the road they travel on their way home to me.
I want someone who understands that everything
I have ever loved, though it all be unworthy,
was worth it in the end, and I want them to remember
fondly our end, long after I am gone and we have
rewritten it so many times that the world’s grandest
libraries…