I knew what I wanted to be as a teenager, when I grew up. I knew it in Grade One when I wrote my first story.
I wanted to be a writer.
What I did not know than, there is no wanting to be a writer, it is who I am.
***I wrote this while I was writing a journal entry. I had goose bumps when I realized the validity of that statement.****
I see you looking
when you think I am not;
beneath your lashes.
I see you wanting,
needing the comfort I provide.
Yet I do not know
how to offer it without offense.
I see you needing
the love that I hide
because I am not sure
that what I feel is right.
You appear so strong,
And I know that you want to appear
as though it is easy.
I know how much you struggle.
I know how much you care.
I know how much you long
for that someone to hold you,
to tell you that things will work themselves out.
I want to be him.
I want to hold you tight.
I want to hold you close……
I want to melt winter’s embrace.
You draw a finger along the shape of my cheek,
cupping my face with tender hands
Breathing deeply the scent that I wear
your lips barely touching mine.
I desire, I want, I need.
You back me to the wall, using your presence as a barrier
and I groan with desire.
You capture my mouth in yours, possessing me
claiming what you want, what you desire, what you have earned.
Knees shake unable to support me
as I collapse into your arms.
You carry me forward and drop me on the bed
as I watch from lidded eyes.
There is no explanation required;
as you drop down next to me.
All we have is this time, this now
take me and make me yours.