the waiting game

maybe one day I’ll dance in a kitchen of my own. There might even be someone who will dance with me. Maybe their day will improve when they’re with me, and their eyes might light up when they see me. They might remember all the little things that I’ve told them about me, and some that I haven’t even voiced. We might bring out the best in each other, and even tolerate some things we hate just to see the other happy. And when that person inevitably doesn’t exist, maybe I’ll finally be able to forgive myself for being unloveable.