My true love invests long days in navigating the landscape of my soul;
sometimes taking mental notes,
sometimes challenging me with comments or actions,
sometimes doing absolutely nothing
but reveling in the paradox of my beauty.
My true love knows how to make me understand him.
My true love looks into my eyes and tells me the truth,
in love,
even if the prick of its pin might startle me
or make me wince from the bit of pain.
My true love hungers for the sound of my voice
and would never demand my silence.
My true love dissents, occasionally,
but would never suggest that I sacrifice my growth.
My true love is electrified by the thought of my lips.
They don't even have to be doing anything.
The work of my true love's life is to learn my wants and needs,
to give them to me as only he can.
My true love is committed to loving me as I am
even though he knows exactly who I am,
even though he knows that I will change
and even though he doesn't know how.
There is more to my true love than meets the eye for he is not ordinary.
I am the prototype of my true love.
