Finese and Innocence

Someone has a sense of humor.
Someone knows me too well.
But who are you?

Why do I twitter at the anticipation of a new life figure
but find endearing comfort in those that I have known forever?
When will I know the insides of those people,
the squishy, warm and fluid life that eases through them
as drops unto the ground?

Where will I meet you starry eyed child?
When will I hold you close to me so that I can whisper all my secrets to you?
When will I be able to grow with you
and see that gorgeous smile
breaking through the darkest of mists?

Am I able to have this? You?
Will I never know the burning, blinding pain whose only medication
is the tiny squinchy face with beady blackened eyes
and wrinkled flesh ready to be stretched?
When will I hold you, tiny,
while you breathe in my essence and know who I am without ever looking?

When do I get to meet you?