Knowing

I will know him

because my skin will sing at the sight of hi.

My fingertips will skim the skin

of his collarbone

and we shall leave nothing untouched.

We will fit into each other perfectly

curving softly into the empty spaces

between lips

between hands

in pupils

in souls.

I will know his laugh in my eyes

and the crinkle of his nose

will mean things to me.

His hands will caress the undersides of my wrists

and he will kiss the back of my neck

and dance with me

to no music at all.

This man does not exist for me yet.

He is waiting for me.

I am

waiting

for me.