My hope.

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “For Posterity.”

I hope you read these words
and hear my voice
as you read it out loud.
That you read it fast, like I talk,
two questions at once.

I hope you read this and know
that it’s about you,
that you see my smile
and feel my skin.

I want you to have known
every thought inside my head
so thoroughly,
even if we’ve never met.

Please sense that I bite my lip
to find just the right word
and swear like a sailor
but only in my head.

I need you to know that I don’t speak
because I prefer to listen,
not because I have
nothing to say
but because nobody asked.

Most of all,
if we ever meet,
I want you to smile
and embrace me
and say, “Here you are.”

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