I want you… sweaty palms.
I want the nerves that you provide.
The inconsistency in body temperature.
Your face in every drop of liquid.
I want you… first kiss.
I want to smell the cherry on her lips as a foot becomes an inch.
To close my eyes for a few seconds. Or minutes.
I want you… that time of the month.
To put up with the mood swings.
Crazy right? There’s more.
I want you… daydream.
12 am confetti in Times Square.
73 with clear skies and light breeze on a Saturday afternoon.
Green grass with a basket made of straw.
The white blanket with red plaid.
I’m not insane. I’m not under a spell.
Don’t change my mind.
I want you.
Yes you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem