It Has Always Been You

I will know true love,
for sure, when it crosses my path,
deep inside bright, blinding eyes that will push me to write,
and leave me insightful about what real beauty has always been.
It has always been you, love,
whoever you are,
it has always been shallow, sitting in the lines around your eyes,
sleeping on your imperfect skin,
and how each scar and dent is,
(dare I say it?)
heaven sent
(I dare. I dare for you.)
It has always been you.
You, the one my heart pictured as I sent the seeds of dandelions to the cerulean sky.
You, the familiar voice in my fantasies as I bid farewell to the flames atop various, delicious birthday cakes.
You, the long, languishing lullaby of longing that has plagued my dreams and pushed their way from my pen to my pages.
You. It has always been you,
but the question is,
my illustrious, inspiring muse,
where on Earth are you?