I don’t crave you to see me in all the regions of the chamber and image your fingertips retracing my skin, or your lips on my mouth. I don’t want you to talk to me with straying eyes, scanning over every part of me. I don’t want you to whisper in my ear, to coax me, to tell me that you want to be closer, to get to know me when we’re alone.
I don’t want to be your are the subject of longing. I don’t want to be your challenge, your quest, your chase. I don’t even want to be a person, a physical entity for you to have and to comprise. Understand, I’m not interested in how your hands long to feel my hips, how your kiss wants to land on my mouth, how your eyes wishes to search over every cell and curve.
I don’t want you to fall in love with my body, I crave you to fall in love with who I am.
I crave you to fall in love with my mind, with the behavior I think. I crave you to fall in love with the words I say, with the unspoken lines of poetry forever being writes to my brain. I crave you to fall in love with the style I tell stories, or daydream when it’s quiet and the morning sunlight is still rising. I want you to fall in love with the style I argue, with the convicts I craft, with the supposes the hell is constructing and deconstructing in my head.
I want you to fall in love with the behavior I feel. With the behavior I process. With the way I determine the world, and the potential we have to see it together. I want you to fall in love with the most authentic part of me–the part that is conceal and careful and passionate and wild. The part of me that shows who I am beyond the realm of my physical self.
I want you to fall in love with my soul, my nerve, my brain. I want you to fall in love with the style I assure “the worlds”, with the route I belief because I will forever be more than a torso, more than two eyes, two legs.
I crave you to know the sorenes I’ve encountered, the demons I’ve fought, the battles I’ve won and the challenges I’ve overcome. I want you to know what stimulates “i m feeling” alive, what music I can’t stop dancing to, what books I can read over and over again.
I crave you to fall in love with my vocabulary, with the tone of my voice, with the conversations I can have with you about the strangest of topics–conversations where we both lose track of day and place.
I crave you to fall in love with the emotional, the spiritual, the sensual realm that is available beyond my skin.
I want to close my eyes and lay next to you , not awaiting your touch, but listening to the stillnes before your mouth speaks words to me. Before questions whisper from your lips, filling the space between us with a longing to delve deeper, to discover more.
I don’t want you to fall in love with the route I look, with the curves of a torso that they are able to never be permanent. I crave you to fall in love with, with who I am–what I say, believe, feel.
I crave you to fall in love with the behavior I envision.