If only I wasn’t still living at home. If only I wasn’t in financial ruin. Not on welfare, had more friends and lead a most exciting life. One filled with spontaneity, creativity and adventure.
Then, I’d finally open my world yo you.
Allowed the universe to retrieve you back to me.
A perfect day, an ideal moment when the chaos of my life settled and the winds of ferment blow me to my utopia .
And during that state of perfectionist euphoria, if only we’d bump into each other, extemporaneously, on the street. If only that moment would resemble my favorite Shakespeare quote.
When I first saw you I fell in love and you smiled because you knew.
If only it would be you who falls for me once again. Head over heels, love at first sight. If only we’d halt our schedules then and there, stepping into the adjacent cafe for a latte and converse until the sun went down. Just wanting and needing to be with the other. If only he’d ask me out the following night, leaving me unsure if it’s technically a date. And on that night you’d bring me roses and kissed me after dinner as we walked hand in hand by the river. A small smattering of stars in the skies and skyscrapers lighting up our surroundings, shining their approval on us.
If only everything with me was perfect then I’d be open to this; fully. This is a flaw of mine I detest, constantly, irrevocably, annoyingly awaiting perfection.