I Expect

You say I expect a lot of you.
I expect you to read my thoughts
Hear the message I'm shouting silently.
To read the wrinkles on my forehead
and understand the cause for my concern.
To feel my every emotion
as it radiates from my body to yours.

Yet you ignore the whispers I send to you
misinterpret the message you halfheartedly read
and ignore the chill rolling through your body.

As I begin to say we just don't fit
I feel your hand in mine.
The way the grooves in our hands match perfectly.
Your lips part mine
and the warm embrace seems to settle my mind.
Your sweet laugh echos through my heart
and I start to wonder.

Do I expect too much?
Will ever find the one that can read me like an open book.
The one that takes time to interpret the meaning of the text
All while appreciating the beauty of its cover?