Knowing
I will know him
because my skin will sing at the sight of hi.
My fingertips will skim the skin
of his collarbone
and we shall leave nothing untouched.
We will fit into each other perfectly
curving softly into the empty spaces
between lips
between hands
in pupils
in souls.
I will know his laugh in my eyes
and the crinkle of his nose
will mean things to me.
His hands will caress the undersides of my wrists
and he will kiss the back of my neck
and dance with me
to no music at all.
This man does not exist for me yet.
He is waiting for me.
I am
waiting
for me.