I Don’t Mind Being Single
I don’t mind being single,
but sometimes,
I imagine that I’m not.
Sometimes,
I dream of that person
who will say he loves me.
A love that would feel real,
yet almost fictional.
A love that isn’t always perfect,
but at least
always present.
A love capable of overcoming
every obstacle.
Someone who would truly see me,
understand me,
accept me,
and love every part of me—
the strongest,
the darkest,
the weakest.
My fears,
my achievements,
my flaws.
A love that would not define me,
but become
a piece of my heart
I never knew was missing.
A love so intense,
yet so gentle.
Quite a paradox.
I don’t mind being single,
but sometimes
I imagine that perfect person,
and I wonder
if I will ever be lucky enough
to meet them.
Then I open my eyes,
and reality crashes back.
I’m lying there alone,
my bed suddenly seeming colder.
I don’t mind being single.
But deep inside,
I hope…
I’ll feel that warmth for real,
even if only just once.
S