I long for you to choose me,
not for my silken tresses or girlish waist,
but for my soul made of ice, fire, and woman.
I long for your hands to find me
where there’s no math,
only the precision of desire.
I could dwell with you forever
without a map.
In a place where even outside, you are inside my city
And landmark aren’t mutable
and you aren’t removable.
Where we could hold something real ever after.
I long for your cloak and resolve to fall.
Come cling, devour, captures. Feel me shiver and shake.
Lead me where no one has invented goodbye
and ardor in high demand.
A place where you love me and you love me Where we savor the ache.
Let my hips, under yours, grow to fit your loneliness.
Let your arms make a soft place for me on your bed of granite.
Shadow me in yourself. Your light bending through me.
Changing me into something other than what I was.
A queen. A goddess. Let your lips tell me
you’ve been expecting me.