Crushed

Beautiful. He is beautiful. I do not mean his physical appearance, which absolutely does not go unnoticed. He is unapologetically dope and real. You know, like a pair of faded black jeans. His spirituality is the most attractive part of him. His love of Jesus makes me weak in the knees. That was a sacrilegious sentence, but I am not sorry. When he teaches, when he exegetes a text, when he sings a song, when he performs a poem, the oil drips from his lips, from his spirit. His soul is beautiful like an ombre sky. He is complicated and rare. He is fully human and fully flawed. These words are taking my breath away as I type them. His face on a screen makes me giddy and shy. Every part of me is alive, afraid, overjoyed, overwhelmed, at his person. Ironically, he does not even know I exist. We are perfect strangers, who in my mind, would be perfect for one another. Can reality meet fantasy? If he knew me would he crush back?