Desire. 

8th of September, 2010

This is so hard to do when all I want is to know the curves of your body like braille.
I want to lose my sight and listen for the beating of your heart to lead me to the places I should go. 

I want to listen for the words that you pause before when you speak, watch you and understand how long it takes you to say something after thinking about it.
I want to watch the way your fingers move and curve and punch the keys when you type to me. 

I want to know each little detail that is changed through the cable and electrical charges of the telephone, how your voice shifts every time. 

I want to know how well your hands fit over my cheeks and cup my face, how your skin feels up against mine. 

Tell me what you want to be, what you’ve been, what you are. Your favourite coffee shop, your favourite blend, how much you’d pay to be alright and where you’d go if you had wings for flight. Let me pick out everything that is wrong on your fake ID from the way it does no justice to your face to the way you still look good through the laminate.

I want to know how well your hands grip onto the coffee mug and why. Is it tight because you are afraid? Is it loose because you’ve stopped caring? I want to learn what things make you laugh, what things make you smirk, what things make you frown, what things make you cry. I want to know what it is like to cradle you and let you know it’s going to be okay.. it’s going to be okay.. we’re all going to be okay after all. 

I want to know where you hold your steering wheel, is it 12 and 8 or 10 and 2? Do you set your clocks ahead so you’ll never be left behind? What are you afraid of? Who do you think you are? Are you gentle or are you rough? 

I want to learn, let me learn. I want to know what it feels like to wait for you, what I think about when I do. Am I anxious? Am I afraid you are never going to come? Do I think of every second as something new to fear?

I want to watch your reactions when the plane gets off the ground, I want to know what you order and if you’d like to meet me in the airplane restroom during the flight some time. 

What would I think, rolling over in the morning to see your face? What would that be like for the both of us? Where would you take me to be, where would I take you? I want to know what we’d be together, what we’d do. 

What do you order at sushi bars and can I get the same thing?
Can we get drunk off of liquor and drunk off of each other? So I can ease off of you and on to something else? Do you care enough for that?

There is so much I want to know like how far down you bite on your pens when you write, and what you think about when you do. 

I want to know how you kiss, how you taste, how soft your lips are and how the hair stands up on the back of your neck when you do.

What songs make you hollow and can we listen to them so I can make you complete?
Can we hold hands and pretend as though we are chanelling an energy that is a secret reserved for the both of us?

I want to know how good it feels to feel you, how my heart skips a beat when you agree with me, how every exclamation mark illuminates my neuron paths like Christmas lights. 

I want to know what it feels like to have you raging through me like a fire, setting ablaze every doubt in my mind about how you and I were meant to be. 

I want to learn what it is like to love you, to lose you, to have you want me back and to know what it is like to both be sorry, both be in love, both need and want and have each other. 

To know what it’s like to not be able to take my eyes off of you. I want to know how well your hand fits inside of mine, how often we’ll have to let go to wipe off the heat and if you think that is too long to be apart as well. 

This is hard because there is still so much I want to know about you.
  

 

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