Long

I want the type of love that people envy. Not because I want the attention, but because I want to know that I have something that people rarely find.

I want passion. I want a man who will push me against the wall and ravage me. I want more in his mind than lust. I want to mean something to someone. I want to mean everything to someone. I want to be his every waking thought. I want to exist where I do not.

I want frantic kisses in bed and someone else’s sweat on my chest. I want a man who will accept my sexuality with all of its kinky attributes. I want a man who will suit my animalistic needs but who still knows how to make love.

I want romance. I want tender kisses and warm hugs. I want a body pressed against mine. I want a man’s arms around me in a loving physical silence. I want to belong to someone, and I want him to belong to me. I want those butterflies when he whispers in my ear. I want him to say sweet things and mean them.

I want a man who will appreciate me as a woman instead of a plaything, who will use me as his rock and not his whore. I want cold nights and hot kisses. I want lingering tongues and trembling pulses.

I want a man who will challenge me intellectually but never find joy in my ignorance. I want honesty so impenetrable that it hurts. I want a man who has no qualms about sinking his teeth into me. I want a man who knows what safety words are for. I want a man who always wants me but has the self control to wait. I want a place to cry but never a reason. I want love so radiant that it shines in my eyes and reflects in his.

I want spontaneity. I want kisses in the rain and company in a storm. I want love on a soft floor. I want someone to make happy. I want to run my fingers through his hair and rake my nails across his back. I want to please him in every way I know how. I want to take his bottom lip in my teeth and milk a vibrating moan from his mouth.

I want laughter so pure that we sound ridiculous together. I want corn and fluff. I want unabashed comical relief. I want his smile imprinted in my memory but never the need to recall it. I want a man who hugs me from behind and nibbles on my ear. I want a man who relishes in the simple sensation of fingers tracing invisible pictures on his back. I want a man who calls me just to hear my voice.

I want a lover. I want a friend. I want days to crawl across the sleepiness within a white hammock. I want fights to end completely without harbored anger or remorse. I want arguments to end in sex. I want a man who understands what makes a relationship last and puts it into practice. I want a man who loves massages—giving and receiving.

I want a man who’s vocal. I want to hear his pleasure in rippling groans that flex and tense his torso. I want silence to disappear in the shadow of ecstasy but blanket the times when nothing must be said. I want a man who knows the value of the word “beautiful.” I want to believe him when he says it.

I want instant heat between my legs at the sight of him. I want his hands. I want dripping sarcasm in wine glasses. I want his voice to be my aphrodisiac. I want his lips to hesitate above mine for a split second to intensify what is to come.

I want a man who appreciates the dying art of the written romantic letter. I want tea for two and cuddling on the couch. I want Jimmy Stewart nights and Kevin Smith nights. I want slow dancing for no reason. I want him to tell me what to wear so he can look at me hungrily all night long. I want Chinese takeout, chopsticks, and pajamas. I want really bad kisses… with good ones to make up for them.

I want lips, tears, teeth, nails, leather, lace, flesh, and metal. I want parallel heads with an annex for dreams. I want messy perfection.

And I want.
And I want.
And I want.