I tried to write the perfect love story
But I got lost along the way…
Perfection doesn’t exist,
And I am thankful for that.
It is too neat,
I want to be consumed by an imperfect love.
I want you to touch me with fingers made of fire.
I want our bodies to be one.
This is my perfect story.
A love so strong,
A passion so consuming
That I would happily drown in it.
Some people wander their whole lives
Looking for a speck of something like this.
Then, they give up and settle.
I am not one to settle.
I will look for you in all seven continents.
Because I know you are out there,
Laughing, drinking, dancing,
Just like I am.
Let us find each other.
Let us kiss under the moonlight.
Let us walk the streets of a faraway city,
Locking hands and smiling foolishly.
Let us hold each other during cold nights,
When the wind is howling outside.
Let us dance freely as if no one is watching.
Let us be silly five year olds together.
Let us hug each other when we’re sad,
Or when we just feel like it.
Let us make love like it’s our first time and our last.
Let us live in our own world.
Let us, let us, let us be…
I tried to write the perfect love story,
I ended up writing you.
Houda is a 22 years old Moroccan dreamer, poet and aspiring world traveler. Poetry is her way of communicating with the world, her first and, probably, last love. But she's not just that, she's also a proud, self-proclaimed nerd, who loves fantasy novels and ghost stories. Above all, she's just a human being trying to live, surrounded by love, books, art and maybe a puppy or two.