Something I've always longed for: to love someone so much and for so long that I've serenaded them with every single Sinatra, Ella, Etta, and Torme song that I know. Seeing as that's a shitload, well.
I'd love to sing for you on a porch at the peak of august, or under the covers. Quiet moments, you know? Not in the car, or outside in daylight. But holding your hand while we're both studying, or over the phone miles away at midnight when the sky is purple black and there's a cool breeze with the lingering smell of cigarettes from a nearby ashtray. Or with your head on my shoulder as I'm washing the dishes. I love singing while I'm washing the dishes.
And even though that's actually (surprisingly) what I'm best at, you'll only ever hear it from me once in a blue moon. And even then, probably unintentionally.
Because I'm saving it. For you. Whoever you are.