Years from now,
You will find a letter similar to this in your drawer of boxers.
It will be, ofcourse ,
More detailed ,
Less of the scribbled thoughts ,
More of comprehended whats, whens, wheres and hows.
By then ,
You will be used to the fact that I colour code mugs and bowls ,
That I fold socks and colour code your boxers too .
Even with the appreciation of this awkward habits ,
You’ll wonder how someone so coded ,
Someone who organises books in alphabetical order and letters chronological would have such a messy mind ,
Such a messy heart.
I am hard to love,
I know I am hard to love because it took me years to convince the girl in the mirror that she is beautiful.
I know I am hard to love because every time I am complemented ,
I feel like it’s a debt I now owe the complememter ,
I feel like the words are not genuine ,
That they come with intentions.
I know I am hard to love ,
But when we first meet ,
I will know that I want you to love me ,
I want to let you ,
I will let you because you are strong ,
Because you are patient and strong.
Please be an artist ,
Be any artist … Just not a writer ,
Not a poet .
Be a photographer ,
Because that way you will understand my soul
Like you know a dark room.
You will understand that sometime ,
The enlarger in my soul,
My dark roomed soul,
That it exposes my negatives ,
That it leaves me vulnerable ,
But you will love me ,
You will love me because you are a photographer ,
Because you understand that this negatives are part of my beauty ,
They are what make me .
Maybe you can be a Potter ,
A painter ,
A musician , singing me music about the sunset and my brown eyes,
Just don’t be a writer ,
Because the days when my soul grieves and I am sad,
You might just write something happy and tender
And I will forget that this words are intangible and try to reach out .
But maybe that’s not a bad thing ,
Maybe when I stretch out ,
You will be there to stand in shape of all the happiness I seek .
I might never tell you enough how much I love you ,
But on days when the world is against you ,
I will stand with you ,
I will hand you your favourite wine ,
I will sit with you and we will drink the world away .
I will make you cinnamon pancakes ,
I will sing to you and tell you that you are enough,
It won’t be perfect,
We are not made for perfect,
We are too arty ,
Too intriguing ,
Too messy and in love to be perfect
So we will fight ,
We will fight and I will tell you “don’t touch me”
But I’ll touch you ,
I will jump on you and whisper into your ears “please dont do that again”
And when it’s my fault ,
I’ll say sorry with everything I have ,
With everything i am .
And we will endure each others flaws ,
We will grow ,
And you will teach me new things ,
And I will show you how to bake cakes.
Ours will be different ,
In a generation like this ,
We will be different.
We will go dancing in the rain ,
You will teach me how to skate,
I will hold on to you because I am afraid of skiing ,
We will travel the world ,
You and me .
We will see the world
Like we want it to be .
For now ,
You are my future
But a time will come when you are the best Present God could ever give me .