If you should decide to shake your hand in mine

Should your hand decide to shake mine, it doesn't matter who you really are. I only hope you understand that my mind is a chaos unleashed, a whirlwind of doubts that has nothing to do with indecision about what I long for. It's just that my soul is in tatters, with few pieces worth salvaging from the wreckage.

I gave my heart to the one who should never have received it, to that person who I thought would be my everything and who turned out to be just another in this world of appearances and deception. Of that broken illusion, I only have a few writings left that now belong to you.

I'm not the most attractive specimen that life has ever crossed your path, but I'll shower you with flowers for no reason. I will bring steaming coffee to your bed in the mornings to reaffirm that with you I am where I belong. I will leave notes under your pillow to remind you that if the pounds pile up or the stretch marks mark your skin, there is nothing there that doesn't deserve to be celebrated and loved.

Because you are the blank canvas on which I'll capture my repaired feelings. You are the haven where I will drink to regain the sanity so long denied me. You will be the home I will visit every night when I close my eyes so that I will never again feel lost.