The Hopeless Romantic

I want you to tell me about every person you've ever been in love with.

Tell me why you loved them, then tell me why they loved you.

Tell me about a day in your life you didn't think you’d live through.

Tell me what the word “home” means to you.

See, I want to know the first time you felt the weight of hate, and if that day still trembles beneath your bones.

Do you think that anger is a sincere emotion or just the timid motion of a fragile heart trying to beat away its pain?

See, I want to know what you think of your first name.

I want you to tell me all the ways you've been unkind.

Tell me all the ways you've been cruel.

Do you believe that Mary was really a virgin?

Do you believe that Moses really parted the sea?

And if you don’t believe in miracles, tell me, how would you explain the miracle of my life to me?

And for all the times you've knelt before the temple of yourself,

have the prayers you've asked come true?

And if they didn't, did you feel denied?

And if you felt denied, denied by who[m]?

I want to know what you see when you look in the mirror on a day you’re feeling good, and on a day you’re feeling bad.

I want to know if you bleed sometimes through other people’s wounds.

And if you imagine sometimes that this life is just a dream that if you wanted to you could just wake up—but you would never because you don't want to.

If a tree fell in the forest and you were the only one there to hear — and if there was no sound would you panic in fear that you didn’t exist, or would you bask in the bliss of your nothingness?

And lastly, let me ask you this: If you and I went for a walk and the entire walk, we didn’t talk — do you think eventually, we’d… kiss?

No, wait. That’s asking too much —after all, this is only our first date.

Written by: -Andrea Gibson- The Lunatics