The wind kissed across her bare shoulders like I had only a few seconds ago. Her eyes sparkling. Our giggles filling the humid air. What more would I want?
Conversation, of course.
Her heart, another of course.
And I have both, but I want more.
I want to love her like the lake loves her when she swats the mosquitoes away from its waters. I want her to love me like she loves her car’s engine when it actually decides to start without a spurt and an electric boost from my red sedan.
I want to kiss her lips like the bees kiss the flowers — gentle, but strong enough to taste what she’s all about. I want her to kiss me like the sun kisses the moon — lighting it bright enough to fill the night with a romantic pale glow.
I want to hold her like the tree we sit under clamps the bark to its bare body. I want her to hold me like the orange somehow-top-of-the-line life-vest I wore in the lake today gripped onto my skinny body.
I want to make love to her. To create a beautiful scene of sighs and “I love you”s loud enough to ring in our ears and hearts for days, maybe years afterwards.
I’m feeling so selfish for all that I want. So damn selfish. But I want her to want to. As Destiny’s Child harmonized in our honor, we have that nuclear love. I feel it in her eyes when mine lock and bare into hers. I feel it in my chest when she lays her head near my heart and her hand near my hand.
This must be love. I want for it to last forever, but I know love can fade like the paint on her car because it’s rested too long in that blazing year-round sun. If there’s more, I want more. All the things I’ve said and more. But honestly, as long as it’s love with her, I’m satisfied. Oh to the powers that be, I am satisfied.