“The Right Person”

You don’t like me
because my body’s heavy
like the burden of my mind.
But “the right person” would be fine with that.

You don’t like me
because my complexion
doesn’t match yours.
But “the right person” wouldn’t care.

You don’t like me
because my affections
seem like desperations.
But “the right person” wants that.

You don’t like me
because my sheets are clean,
and I lie patiently for you.
But “the right person” like that.

But I must confess,
I think I’d reject
“the right person”
a deranged Pollyana.

Months of tears over you.
People try to comfort me
with “the right person”
my consolation prize.

Everyone talks about you
like some frivolous escapade
that time will keep at bay
to make way for the illusive “right person”

Like beckoning the faithless
to pray at the altar
to a higher being
that just doesn’t exist.

“The right person” could
fulfil my wildest dreams.
But would I ever deem
them good enough when there’s you.

Because they could be wise,
they could have luminous eyes,
they could be sensually sly,
but they would always be denied.

Because “the right person”
will always seem wrong
when even my bones know
that it can only be you -
no body else, just you.