Chips and Salsa

You stride in with the utmost confidence as you embrace me. The hug is warm and deep, as if we have not seen each other for years. Our build and statures are alike, as is much of our passions and aspirations. The likeness only makes my longing for someone like you worse.

I’ll never tell you how lovely you are because I am not allowed too. We’ll never be able to share in the sweet subtle moments that lovers share. We won’t cheer with dark beers at the dreariest of dive bars; where despite the lack of light, your smile and face would shine through the darkness. We won’t go grocery shopping or share small cappuccinos together. We might not even wake up and stare into each others eyes after a pleasant winter night under the warmest of blankets. And share the simplest of breakfasts because of my handicap as a cook.

All of this will never happen. And I have to be okay with this.

So I will be patient. I will be quiet. And await our reunion on some sunny day. Like a chip awaiting his salsa. It’s match.

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