You don’t know who I am. I get that.
You’ve been hurt so you’re cautious. I’ve been there. I understand.
When we talk, I can sense your interest behind your defenses. It’s not fading despite the part of you that wants it to. Soon enough you’ll come to the question that I have arrived at. That question is not who I am, but rather who I could be.
Who Could I be?
I could be your most secret desire. I could be the one who makes you coffee every morning. I could be the best orgasm you have ever had. I could be safe and warm and happy in your arms. I could be at your door with flowers. I could be writing you poetry. I could be the person who always takes your call. I could be who you can lean on. I could be your happily ever after. I could be your match made in heaven. I could be your home.
I could be… Who could I be?
Tell me, are you ready to ask yourself that? Or is the idea still too frightening? It starts with flashes, that thought, that question, only escaping the confines of your self-preservation for mere seconds. Then the seconds turn into minutes, into hours, into dreams, into a steady hum in the back of your mind. Who could I be?
I’m ready to find out. Are you?