I want you close.
Close, so when you breathe I breathe with you. So that when you release your breath and everything with it, I do too. I want to let go of all the things we don’t need within us.
I want us bare. I want you that close.
I want you naked.
Naked so you are no longer dressed in the best version of yourself. You are not abiding. You are not conforming. Naked so you are vulnerable. Naked so you are flooded with questions, full of fear and love and dread and dreams. Naked so you are open to my touch, whenever and however I want to touch you.
I want you touching.
I want you to fold yourself around me in every direction like a sweet wrapper. I want you sticky. Sticky so I can’t remove you. Sticky and smooth. Smooth so your skin glides along mine like the wind as it moves waters. Ethereal. Existing. And sticky.
I want distance.
But only distance that lets us feel the gaps of air between our skin. And let it be the place where our souls meet, as though for the first time. Every time.
I want to dance.
To glide through your touch. To be your momentum. To create a pace that centres between us. To be led by your rhythm. To challenge you with mine. I want to move to the balance, to dance to the sound—to the organic, authentic changings of our selves.
I want to discover you.
I want to find new things in you that weren’t there yesterday. To appreciate the you of last week, last month, last night. To anticipate the you that will become tomorrow.
I want to wander over your body like it’s a mountain I’ve always wanted to orient. To observe the textures, to be enlivened by the colour, to be nostalgic over the sound. I want to get lost there, to panic, to cry.
I want to sweat with search. I want to find the world within you. Let it appear to me, fluid with currents like a painting in moving rivers.
I want you whole.
I want the trees of the mountain that were cut down 60 years ago, the trees that were erected 200, 400,900 years before. I want to taste your mistakes. I want to feel your intuition on my finger-tips and hear your spirit speak. I want you to bring out sensory experiences within me, in dimensions that I never knew existed.
And I want to know you’re right there with me.
I want you with me.
Within me as I am within you. I want to be worldly and bodily with you. I want to radiate the world’s beauty as we make our energy. I want to feel its stillness and its direction as we share it with the world. I want to fly together dressed in the world’s hottest and coldest oceans.
I want to do this.
With every speckle of envy and every drop of trepidation. With its honest hesitations and wrenching doubts. With flutters of anxiety, twitches of abhor, the clench of the jaw, the spasm of the muscle, the flight of the mind.
With all those moments I want to tie the laces of my trainers tighter than I ever have before—so I can run, run far, run so far away I can’t remember the softness of your face and the calling of your voice.
I want to do this with the mess, the larking and lively mess. The darkness. The swim through the swamp when the moon isn’t shining. The drips of confusion, the terror, the ignorance. I want to take a million and one roads with you that will never make it onto the grid.
Mystify me, perplex me and love me—as I will do all to you.
How to Love a Woman who Knows Exactly how to be Loved.
Author: Annabelle Buck
Assistant Editor: Hilda Carroll / Editor: Renee Picard
Image: Author’s own
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