You and I, well, we’re a little more complicated than the usual boy meets girl kind of scenario.
You are 7000 miles away from where I am and we don’t even speak the same language.
Your tongue barely knows the rhythm of the English language and same goes for me and mi Español.
We met by chance and I still can not comprehend as to how it’s possible for someone to be so darned lucky to meet someone who is not horny, naughty or a spambot online.
You told me I was different… and boy, I must tell you that you are as different as I am.
We weren’t looking for anything specific really, well maybe you… weren’t looking for anything specific. That night we first “met”, was actually an experiment for me.
I was looking for someone to practice my Spanish with and boy, did fate grant my wish.
I met you.
You met me.
You asked me as to what I was doing there and I told you my reasons.
When I asked you the same, you said your words framed by a different language but say the same things.
From that night on, we started talking, and talking.
I would sing to you, send you pictures of the things I see, of my face of the things I find attractive and so would you (although you really hated it every time I’d ask for a picture of your face).
You don’t look ugly, you don’t look stellar either… you look normal… you look human to me.
You told me I was pretty and that I could be the perfect girlfriend.
You told me stories of your past and how they sometimes haunt you ever so fervently.
You gave me songs to listen to and I did the same with you.
Distance is our biggest problem, that’s what’s haunting me but your demons and fears concluded otherwise.
Your heart so scarred by the last girl who possessed it made you cripple away from my words that woke you up and lulled you to your sleep. My words in English, Spanish and French; the words that I clothed you with, the words that I used as colors to paint a vivid image of who I am. The words that spoke from my heart, typed with sincerity, recorded with happy thoughts and thankful phrases that I met you.
You’re afraid of the words that I use for these are the very words that are now seething on to the surface of your skin down to the very veins that carry your blood.
You’re afraid of me because I am real… realer than you thought I would be, when ever since that night I met you, you have already been the realest thing for me.