Seeking...

It's been bottled up for quite some time, these emotions that I harbor. And though I wish I could deny it, I'm green with envy's stain. I see the way they all interact, and I want to taste it -- with you.

I don't know how I can possibly tell you the things I would potentially want to have with you without scaring you away from me. Just now, I feel I have finally reached you in the manner I've hoped to for so long, but it isn't enough. I long for clarity. I long for definition. I long for the opportunity to wake with you, to touch as we have touched, to kiss as we have kissed, to make love without the fear of being wasted and forgotten the next night.

Is it so wrong of me to feel these things? Is it so wrong of me to crave them? To constantly desire them more than anything? I try to tell myself not to let it happen, not to let the emotions build, but you make it increasingly difficult. The more I encounter you, the deeper I sink into you, the more trouble I cause for myself.

You know not how you draw me. You know not how much unrest you cause me. I fear you more than anything, because even though I know far well that I own the keys to these gates, you are completely capable of breaking them down and stealing what you wish from my gardens without any remorse or second thoughts. You have the power to leave me bare and empty, but I am hoping you will not. I am hoping that perhaps you will feel as I feel. Perhaps, you will be drawn as I am drawn, that you will long to touch, and to kiss. To make love and wake in the glory of one another's presence.

I cannot read you. I wouldn't dare dream of it because I fear it so greatly. So, here I sit in my silence and pray for you to take action; for you to take me as your woman, so that I may have you as my man. Proclaim that you want me, and I will never do you wrong.

There is nothing left to say. If you should come across this, I do not know if you will know it is for you. I hope, and fear, that you will realize this. That I want you something terrible. That I miss you when I don't have you around. That I crave you and ache for you and think of you too much for my own good. If I have not startled you, or frightened you, should you have figured out this is for you, please tell me what this is. Tell me what we are. Tell me what we could be, what you want us to be. For my part, the answers are plainly written here.

I want to be more than just mud in your eyes. I want to be the clay in your hands.