Be the eyes that find solace in my eyes.
Be the smile that rests on your lips when I am being naive.
Be the man to trust me with your car.
Be the hand that takes my hand as I stand clueless on a street.
Be the kinship that demands nothing but a drink and a little talk.
Be the gaze that remains settled at my sight.
Be those feet that steady my pace when I am walking too fast,
Or the ones that set mine in motion when I am too afraid to advance.
Be the whisper that reminds me how beautiful I am when I do not fidget.
Be the force that makes the world bow at my feet.
Be the gentle nudge that helps me fit in.
Be the unwavering belief in my abilities, even when I believe the contrary.
Be the faith that doesn’t shudder to confide the unspoken in me.
Be the time you stole for me, from what is known to be your sole passion.
Be the slumber you succumb to, in the confidence of only a privileged few.
Be the submission that let my opinion supersede yours.
Be the blow that assuages my hurt.
Be the persuasion that longs for my company.
Yet be the nod that accepts my retreat.
Be the epiphany that qualifies me as priceless.
Be the knight who rescues me.
More importantly, let me be the woman who rescues you back.
And that is what you call being the Edward to my Vivian.
P.S. This was a post I wrote a few days ago. I call it my Pretty Woman hangover.