Chapter 1
The thought of settling down scares me when there is so much left for me to see, but I would give it all up—throw it all away—if the beat of your heart strums the word home when my head is nestled on your chest. I promise I’ll share, and I promise I’ll care when I stop searching for the meaning of that word in this cruel, miserable, empty air.
I’m convinced you’re out there,
holding doors for elders and those with babies,
and eyeing flowers—specifically daisies.
I hope your idea of a Friday night is pizza and long drives to watch the sunrise.
I hope you’re the kind who makes hearts in the sand on the beach
and the one who makes me feel like someone who doesn’t have to be extraordinary—
the one who will love me in my plaid pajamas, with my vintage tea sets,
and the idea of having vines on our graves touch when our souls can no longer defy us.
For you, I would give up my last name in exchange for yours,
squeeze your hand three times,
write your name on parchment,
and trade the moment I found love for words and mosaic paintings—
just for you to call me your own.
