I have a woman inside my soul
Her eyes somber and sad
She waves her hand to try to reach me
But I don′t know what she says
I wish I knew what she says
I wish I knew what she wants
I wish I knew what she says to me
I wish I knew what she means to me
I'm a slut. Im a real romantic psycho, all I can think about is that girl. I'm a real hopeless munch, a bread headed dog. I'm thinking this year I'm gonna let it out a little bit. I'm gonna maybe catch something, but I can manage. Open air will always carry that risk... I'd welcome it just for her.
It's the mystery of it, that wherewithal to wonder and peck at my own interest. I need to know this girl, I want her to talk to me for hours and hours.
I want to fall asleep to her voice, y'know?
The funniest snag about it all is part of me thinks she might never think I'm talking about her. Y'know, what are the chances she reads this and thinks I'm going on and on about some other lovely lady? Nah, my shayla, you're on the money. You're every bit as smart as I like.
Women are smarter, it's true. I'm transitioning, right? I'm trying to work up the smarticles to be half as radiant. I'm trying to get in that ballpark of psychological divinity, isn't that a job?
I always lose it for these braniac genius sort of girls. The creative types, the sort of girls with that emotive lattice going on.
Hohohohohooooo, I'm gonna tell Cronkite about it again. I need the counsel of my friend to remember moderation. I'm this close to calling her just her hear her yell at me, talk sweet to me, act confused, anything. Hearing her voice would make my month.
I'm stuck in Detroit, I love Detroit... but I need to be where she is. Only if she gave the word. I could head down. I know it.
I'm doing that thing again where I write real recklessly in the hopes that it'll give my beloved admired little lady the ick. But I mean.... nah. I've got enough money... I've got enough money, I can take a train ride. Anytime. For real.
And the thing is, I want her to tell me anything. I'd be willing to let her curse me out in public if I can hear her voice again, y'know. The only time I heard it in person was during the people's conference last year... Mary Magdalene and St. Peter, save me from myself.
I'd love to hear her command me. I remember talking to her, just the one time. I've gone stark raving mad about it.
I'll tell you, I think she's got a girl, or a guy. Maybe I'm wrong, I dunno. If I'm right, let me tell you something... that's something better than luck they've got, if they've got her eye. She's absolutely gorgeous. And shes a smart kind of girl too, I'll bet she's got a better head than me. Whoever they might be, they've got a blessing the luckiest of saints could never know.
A girl like that is God in the flesh; to disrespect or disappoint her is to embrace an aberration towards the designs of the maker. If I ever made her cry, I'd take a swipe at my ear like Peter did the Romans.
I want to hear her tell me what she wants. What does she want me to do, for real. If she wants me to never interact with her stuff, if she wants me to drop it... if she wants to talk to me, to see me. Anything.
Anything, any of those, I'll do it. I want to make sure she's happy, right? But I want her to tell me what she wants.
I'll do it, chest exposed, I'll let her hold the knife, right? I'll do it.
I want to be friends first, yeah, but I just want to hear her voice.
I know that for some people it fizzles out, it goes away if it doesn't happen fast enough. I'm willing to wait an eternity just for a chance to kiss the back of her hand. I'll let the sun explode if get a chance to see her face in the flesh again. I'm being serious.
I'll pretend that I'm kissing,
The lips I am missing
And hope that my dreams will come true.
And then while I'm away,
I'll write home everyday,
And I'll send all my loving to you.
Anything she wants. Anything.
How much can I give away? Let me spill a little more.
I think about that meme I see going around, that gif of the jester trying to keep the attention of the queen. Yeah, but let's be serious... I'd keep on the show for her. Anything for a kiss. Anything.
I'll tell you how she sticks out. It's a bit weird, right? It's a feeling of... non verbal conversation. I remember her eyes. I remember how they moved above her face mask that day. I remember looking at her when I was talking, I remember wanting to be myself. Somebody so radiant, you know, you get that God fearing sense about it. Let me be what I really am, y'know?
I could only hope I made a good impression. I can only dream of a day where I can see her again.
I saw her out and about at Cobo more than once, on each day of the conference, but it was after the screening when I talked to her, where I was really taken by her, y'know?
I remember how she did her hair, I remember her fingers, I remember her face. It's like I keep a locket in my heart, a picture of some kind of blessing in the form of a lady. The closest to perfect I've ever had the pleasure of seeing in the flesh, I mean that.
And maybe it's wrong for me to think all these things... I don't give a shit. I'm in the business of vulnerability, I'll play the dozens with my seraphs and play these odds.
I love her already, isn't that terrible? It's maybe a kind of parasocial feeling. But here's the thing... a version of myself that shied away from the feeling, cause of a caution whispered in my ear... that version of myself is all but tucked in bed.
I gave her my number, I dunno if she'll ever use it again. I'll be honored to bear witness to her presence in the form of electric signals. Whatever she wants to give, I'll take.
It's not about showy gestures and pyrric sacrifices, no. Nah, you gotta understand... I'll do her laundry, you know? I want to do all those dishes by hand, I'll organize her medicine cabinet, I want to fill her tires and stock her groceries. I want to be hers.
But I gotta talk to her first. I gotta hear her out first, and act accordingly. Whatever she wants, her will be done. On Earth as it is, damn near. God will probably flick my forehead for thinking like a blasphemer, but I already let him know how I felt. He knows I mean it.
I answered some of her questions once before, I can do it again. I'll only ever tell her truth. Here's an account for the world to hold me to.
I can listen to you any time. You can say anything. I don't have to say anything back, if you don't want me to. Whatever you want.
Just call me.
