I don’t need a love, I say.
I’m fine alone, I say.
And I am.
But that’s also bullsh*t.
Because on the dark, starless nights when loneliness gets blistering, somehow ice-cold and unbearably hot at the same time—
I’m not so fine alone.
I reach out for your hand—I reach out for your heart.
And I feel a sting under my skin, a flutter of delicious hope budding from inside me, like a hungry hibiscus.
And yes, I am whole without you—I am happy, I am free.
But there’s a tiny ache inside me, the size of a feather—a small, but pronounced hollowness in my chest, a lack of something, an abstract emptiness, a very real loneliness,
There’s a vulnerable whisper—a soft song I hear only when it’s perfectly quiet, when I’m not so busy and distracted.
And this starving place, tucked in the softest corner of my heart—
And I long for you,
Oh, I long for you—
A fellow warrior,
A compliment to my heart, a fiery challenge to my soul, a lover to share my life, the burdens and the beauty of it all.
I long for you.
I long for you right now, on my front porch, the air smelling of lilacs and papaya.
My lips ache, foreshadowing with scrumptious echoes of what your kisses will feel like.
I can almost feel the nectar of your hot breath on my neck, but it’s just a passing breeze tickling me.
I wish so hard on the full moon that you would appear out of thin air—
But you don’t.
And so I long for you,
I lick the thought of you—unwrapping it eagerly, like a candy bar; a ripe raspberry of possibility.
And my god, I swear I can feel your fingertips tracing the edge of my lower back, giving me a gorgeous scattering of goosebumps.
I swear I can feel you smiling at me, making me weak in the knees with your glorious laughter, as we ride in your car with the windows down, on the way to some unexpected mountain adventure,
As I look at you like I know all your secrets,
As you tell me there’s no place in the world you’d rather be.
I long for you.
Do you long for me—do you feel me thinking of you?
I send your heart a flare through space and time, hoping maybe you’ll hear me.
I long for you on the front porch, the air smelling of lilacs and papaya.
I long for you, to touch me, to meet me for a double dark espresso and talk of everything until the sun dances behind the moon.
I long for you, with every bone of my body.
I long for you to grab my hand and pull me so dangerously close.
I long for you—a lover to share my life, the burdens and beauty of it all.
I long for you,
But the breeze whispers, not yet, not just yet.
Tears crash into my eyes, because f*ck, I’m so scared to love,
I’m not good at it, I’m not ready, I’m tender, I’m shaky and raw—
So I sit, stuck between fear—the shattering possibility of getting hurt,
And this deep, delicious longing for you that could take me on the adventure of a lifetime.
Which way to go?
Longing wins by a landslide.
I take the risk.
My armor crashes to the ground, revealing my heart, so vulnerably.
I lick the thought of you.
Author: Sarah Harvey
Editor: Sara Kärpänen
Photo: Chiara Cremaschi / Flickr
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