I’ve been longing for you before I even know you. 

The same picture my mind drifts towards in my subconscious state:

I walk into the door, wearing a blue dress (which varies sometimes) - the apartment is dimly lit - and you cup your hands over my eyes from behind. I let out a smile, and breathe in your atmosphere as our bodies touch. You nudge me forward through the hallway, leading me to some kind of surprise - of course, a surprise. It’s my birthday.

You whisper, “ready?”

You release your hands from my eyes, but I never got round to carving that portion of my imagination. Perhaps, I’m waiting to see what you’d do for me, instead of what I’d imagine or want you to do for me.

It’s a surprise, after all.