Waiting for the Perfect Man

Waiting for the Perfect Man

I sat down one day and forgot to stand again

The bench grew used to me and I to it

The sky changed colours a thousand times

And still I stayed, waiting for the perfect man

He was meant to see me, not just look

He was meant to know the sound of my silence

I see him tall, kind, maybe broken in the right way

Someone who would not flinch at my truths

But time is cruel and patient

It peeled me away layer by layer

Until I was only what remained of wanting

A whisper of hope inside hollow bones

People pass and laugh, some take pictures

They call me a story, a warning, a joke

But I was once real, I was once soft

And I waited because I believed

Now the air sits inside my ribs like memory

I do not move, I do not need to

He will not come, I know this

But still, I wait

Not for him anymore

for the reason I thought he’d come at all

waiting for the perfect man,

maybe he never existed at all