An Incomplete List For The Girl Of My Incomplete Dreams

In dark, I responded lightly;
passing it off to you being cool.
The heat and sleep inside
    and your voice said, "go."
And part of me wondered if you meant forever
    or if it would just feel like it.

In the first moments of forever,
    the Question stood with hands in pockets waiting patiently.
"Salutations," he gleaned from classic children's literature, "begin."

She wears her personality like lovers wear their hearts and dreams on sleeves;
    vibrant and full of life.
She walks among the empty graves of dying art forms
    mixing hope and kindness;
    ambitions and unassuming smiles.
She walks tall and strong
and bright
and sharp
and makes threats feel like moments of joy.
She is fun like children and waves and swings and melodies.
She is confident and clear like summer skies without interruptions.
She knows hurts and scars,
    but dreams
    and soars
    and brightens
    and shows compassion when anxiety removes all life from houses
    and cares for friends with deep convictions
    and mirrors the beauty of bright new days
    and
        the run-on ran on drowning all word constructs before it;
    just like she drowns all other thoughts from my head.