You Don’t Know My Name

You don’t know my name. But I know your heart. I know that it beats to offset my laughter. I know that the way it’ll tap below my ear will be the rhythm to my favorite song… one that was imbedded in my soul long, long ago. It is the song that was always stuck in my head, but one whose origin I never knew. And I know that its rifts and the creases were left open for me to fill; they were left broken for me to seal.

You don’t know my name. But I know your eyes. I know that they will twist my insides like taffy and my lips to forge a smile. I know that they will overpower me like a Florida summer… warm with joy and wet with the knowledge that I could so easily break you. They will see right through me like an x-ray, but I welcome it. I welcome your eyes into the depths of my soul and all of its tantalizing secrets.

You don’t know my name. But I know your hands. I know that I will count the changes through the years… The lines that form from our adventures, the rough parts that come from your manual aid, and the way your skin remains the softest touch against my own. Your hands will lace with mine until they intertwine with the children we will spend the rest of our lives protecting.

You don’t know my name. But I know your voice. I know that the way you say goodbye will be bittersweet, but the way you say hello will spark an immortal fire in my heart. I know that your voice will anger me and appease me simultaneously. I will disagree with the words that it carries, but will fall for the words that you seldom leave out. I know that I could live the rest of my life peacefully as soon as I heard you whisper, “I love you.”

You don’t know my name. But I know your soul. I know that in its gravities is a story I’ve been waiting my whole life to read. It’s a story that is the answer to my every writer’s block. It’s the beginning to my end and the end to my beginning. It’s everything and nothing contemporaneously. It’s the contradiction and the answer to everything I’ve ever known. It’s the key to mine and I the key to yours. It’s a broken piece of faultlessness that is lined with familiarity. It’s my soul’s mate.

You don’t know my name. But I know your laugh. I know that it is the remedy to every one of my broken hearts. I know that its vibration will live in my veins so I always ascertain the positive in life. I know that it will be as loud as it is curious, but more contagious than any laughter I’ve come to know. I know I will spend the rest of my life trying to figure out new ways to hear it.

You don’t know my name. But I know your lips. I know that the moment they align with mine the world will turn upside down. Everything will seem horribly confusing and true at the same time. I know it will catalyze fear into my heart because I will understand that you then control it completely. I know yours will be the last I ever kiss. I know that there will be no butterflies, no fireworks, but there will be an end to the fickle world, as I know it. It will be soft, white like smog, and peaceful. All will be right, and every wrong before it will finally make sense.

You don’t know my name. But I know I will love you. I know all the days that are trickling away are only getting me closer to you. I know I should not settle for just any heart, any set of hands or eyes or lips, for any voice or any soul, and for any laugh. I will not settle until it is clear to me my search has rightfully ceased. I will not stop looking until I am sincerely found. And I want you to know that I will wait for you as long as it may take.

You don’t know my name. But I know you. I know you inside and out, and I have spent my whole life dreaming of you. You are the answer to my every birthday wish, my every prayer, and the desire behind every shooting star I haven’t seen. I know you because you belong to me, and I to you. Our entire lives are a set of journeys and detours meant to mold us into who we are meant to be before we become us.

You don’t know my name. But I know that forever only begins when you attach yours to my own.