Intentions

I run in circles trying to untangle
the web of thoughts and emotions
pulling me into this depth.
When I come up for air, the scenery shifts
and the words spill all over you.
Blurry edges come into focus
as I dig deep into my core.
But you aren't ready for clarity,
are you? 
 
It’s not an intellectual connection 
that I seek,
one busy mind is plenty to keep me
vigilant.
And it’s not your soul
that I’m after
as mine already reflects its essence.
I don’t crave your body
because someone else’s scent
still permeates my senses,
and you don’t deserve to be compared
to anyone but yourself.
You lie here unveiled
and I want to wrap you up
in promises I wish I could keep,
but I have nothing to give
except for my presence,
untethered.

I say that the future is simply 
an unending succession of nows 
intertwined by an endless interplay
of individual wills,
so talk to me about your longings
and boundaries
so that I can see my future
more clearly.
Or maybe it’s not yet time
for such vulnerability.
 
Can you hear my plea 
beyond words that have no relevance
to the yearning for a touch 
of your hand to my shoulder?
In between stories,
and in between pauses,
in between today
and tomorrow,
I want to hold your face in my hands
and let the bubbling warmth inside of me
overflow.
There is no agenda
to this yearning,
only a longing for a connection,
in all the spaces between the sounds
of words
keeping the momentum.

I know it’s a delicate ask,
but I will ask anyway
for an unconditionally tender,
unwavering acceptance,
a warm blanket of assurance that
offers itself through your smile
and the freedom to be
authentically
affectionate
without an expectation
to move in any direction
away
from now.