Prototype

If he was the prototype he'd be just right, with such imperfections that I could appreciate. We would waste time together because we had nothing greater to do, than to stare blankly and breathe deeply during the awkward silence and search for phrases in a hurry...too late, the cricket sound is already playing. But I don't mind the silence, we can just be quiet and listen to our hearts skip a beat, that would be alright with me. The wind blows past our finger tips, I'm convinced our hands will touch, causing a rush. It's just a little too much for me to handle. I've been conditioned to run away as soon as something real appears. Fantasies and dreams never had this scratch and sniff feature, in that false reality humans were intangible creatures. Don't be alarmed if I hold on a little longer, a little tighter. I'm not tryna get a cheap thrill, I just finally have something I can feel. And the skies could fall any second now but the damage is already done, so it really doesn't matter if I've lost or if I've already won. My heart has melted to stone, but anythings better than being alone. Tell me "it's better to have loved and lost, than to never have loved at all." Tell me more as I dust myself off from the fall. If he is the prototype, he's just right, my imperfections, he can appreciate.