I want it. My mother always said closed mouths don’t get fed so why won’t I ask for what I want when it comes to love? I sit here, skirting around the word. When you ask me what I’m looking for. That dreaded conversation. If I tell you what I really want you’ll run. I know you’ll run. and the worst part is you’ll say you’re staying as you lace up your shoes to run. I know it. Happened too many times before. I want love. I want you to walk down the street with me beside you. Your Nefertiri. I want you to open doors, and pull out chairs and not just for the first three dates. I want you to be kind, I want you to be firm, I want you to settle my restless spirit when it can’t find refuge in its usual spaces. I want to be able to look at you and just know it’s love. I want to like you. I want to laugh with you and cry with you and live with you and die with you and I want that so fiercely that it scares me. It scares me to think that another human being could be of such importance to my existence. Maybe that’s why I haven’t found you yet. So I’ll answer your question the same way I’ve answered with every other suitor. “Whatever pleases you.” I will bend my desires to fit your comfort level. You don’t want a girl? “Oh , nah I don’t want to be in a relationship either; I’m too young, too free,” I’ll say. All the while hoping you’ll see through the facade and say “baby, I’m yours” – the fairy tale ending. That’s all I want.  I want to know you’ll fight that fire-breathing dragon for me – but you won’t kill him because you’ll want him to carry us home- not wanting my feet to touch the rubble or hands to be cut up as we search our way through the woods- you’ll want us, to fly. Fly over the obstacles and destruction to a higher place. It’s just gotta be love.

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