But I don’t want comfort. I want poetry. I want danger. I want freedom. I want goodness. I want sin. ”
I dreamed this morning that I woke up next to you. I held your hand, wrapped my fingers through yours. I pulled your arm across my ribs, settled my spine into the soft flesh of your stomach. You pressed your lips against the back of my neck. You rubbed the tip of your nose across my shoulder, pushing away my hair until you got to my skin. You inhaled so deep I could feel the heat of your ribs move away from my shoulder blades. You ran your thumb over the back of my knuckles, up the inside my arm, held me by the elbow. You whispered, “Good Morning” and your breath was warm and sweet against the edge of my ear.
I dreamed this morning that you knew how to hold me; knew how to turn my stomach inside out; knew exactly how my chin became my neck and my neck became my heart—that you were mine.
I woke up and my hands were empty; my skin was cold; my mouth was dry. I woke up and you belonged to some other place that wasn’t here; some other bed that wasn’t mine; some other space that I only wish I could get to.
Maybe, one day I will get there. Maybe, one day I’ll open my eyes and when I reach out for your hand, you’ll be right next to me, reaching out for me, too.
Maybe, one day.”
I want to love you. I want to hold you. I want to know how you like to be touched. I want to know what it is like to wake up and know you are mine. I want to spend a winter living underneath you, above you, beside you; spend the coldest months doing nothing but keeping each other warm.
I’d touch you first. I’d kiss you first. I’d love you first and I wouldn’t ever regret it. I wouldn’t wait for the right time or the third date. I’d fuck it up, do everything too fast, do everything without worrying if you were going to call me in the morning. I’d throw myself into you and never pause to worry about where I’d eventually land.
There are things worth splintering into a million pieces for and I am absolutely certain you are one of those things.”