It’s odd that one might have a vision of what might be,
When looking into the unknowing beyond.
To think that I had once expected your shape, your taste
And your glances long before I had met you.
I constructed a vessel that would hold my love to be,
Never once had my idiocy truly dawned
Upon me. I simply kept looking for this image with haste.
Convinced every second that my vision was true.
You were a glass of shapes unprecedented. Not just that,
But as I poured, expecting white, pristine milk,
You came out blue. Not unpleasant, not wrong, just
Different. Blue milk from an alien world.
Mild urges to run had to be suppressed, my mind spat
In anger as it struggled to determine your ilk.
You were not the vessel, you were not the want. Lust,
Need and truth was born, and finally unfurled.
Sipping blue milk, I found it not unpleasant.
Sipping blue milk, I found myself hesitant.
Sipping blue milk, and I was in another time.
I knew then, that we had been attached from birth with twine.
Softly floating towards each other, blindly.
You encompassed every single need totally.
You were unlike anything I had ever seen, imagined.
And that was when our love began.