To The Girl I (Haven't)met (Yet) Poem by Liam CohanAllen

Will she will sit across from me, a table, a chair, a barstool counter, a rooftop overlooking the city of lights, alive with a glow?
What difference does it make?

Will she look at me with a sparkle in her eye, flip her hair with her forefinger, crack a quip, tell me "lets get out of here? "
What will that mean to me?

Will we dance together in a blur, slowly seranading one another with our bodies, becoming ever so in-sync, until we feel that together we're alive?
How does it all fit together?

What does it mean to meet someone today?
To hope that the counting stars above believe we're right for one another?

We've become so afraid
Of what it means to act alive, to think on our feet

That we've driven those who want it the most to die on the feet they think on.

I want to tell myself she'll be there when the time comes

I want to reassure myself that I'm right.

But how right can you be when the possiblity is absent?