I sometimes wish I could be the daring, devilish kind of girl who kisses hot strangers in bars, the tequila on my lips the only reminder that we were, for a split second, connected.
I wish I could run my hands through their hair and over their chest and not have questions swarming into my head: What’s their name? Are they nice to their mothers? How do they sleep at night?
I wish I could meet a guy in a club, let our bodies writhe against each other in the smokey haze of mystery and warped decisions. I wish I could fall into bed with them and lose myself and not have the heavy stain of regret hanging over me the next day.
But that’s not me. And it never will be.
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I want to be naked with someone in more ways than just physically. Every single kiss needs to be fueled by days or even weeks of stolen glances and intoxicating sexual chemistry. I want to lose time imagining their lips pressed to mine and their tongue dancing about inside my mouth.
I want to have lived it a thousand times in my mind so that when their lips do eventually touch mine, I feel it everywhere. From the goosebumps fluttering beautifully all over my skin right to the tips of my toes. I want to feel it deep inside my stomach where butterflies are spinning around each other triumphantly. I want to feel like a sixteen year old again.
Because otherwise, what’s the point?
I want to be naked with someone in more ways than just physically.
I want to sleep with someone who connects the freckles on my back like constellations in the late morning sun and traces my curves with his lips. I want to know what he eats for breakfast and the look on his face as sleep finds him.
I want him to ask me about my favorite book and what inspires me. I want to know the things that keep him up at night and the relationship he has with his family. I want to know what causes that sparkle in his eyes and the slight twitch to his smile.
I do not want to be another nameless girl in a crowded city. I do not want awkward encounters the next morning when he’s kicking me out of his apartment. I do not want to be just a body or a ‘great lay’ because I am so much more than that.
I cannot help but get attached to anyone who enters my life, even the sweet boy on the bus who offers me his seat. I feel everything too intensely, I love too hard and my pain overwhelms me.
I am not a one night stand kind of girl.
I do not want to be another nameless girl in a crowded city.
I want late night conversations while I’m sitting on the kitchen counter in his baggy t-shirt with a hole in the collar, eating ice cream and talking about the universe.
I want it all, I want love and excitement. I want our passion to drive me wild and for his adoration of me to make me feel loopy.
I want to be a country within the world of his heart and I want sign posted in every state. I want to be a time capsule of memories. A lifetime of stories.
I want to be so much more than a 3a.m. booty call. But most importantly...
I want to mean something
