I Just Want You To Want Me

Fuck! I just want you to want me. I really only want to occupy the space of your mind, seep into every crevice of your brain and captivate you in all ways. I want to be able to hold your gaze, so long, that even when you turn away, you see me, in the insides of your eyelids, and your mind remembers the feeling of my sweet scent tickling the walls of your nostrils.

Shit! I want you to need me. For you to itch and yearn helplessly for me. For you to sit and wonder what I am wearing, imagining what color lays against my skin because you haven’t seen me today. I want you to draw within your mind’s eye, the way my clothes lightly drape over the edges of my body, and then tightly grip the contours of my curves. I want you to be tormented by the want to tug all fabric off me, until you only clothe me.

Damn! I want you to get the shakes, withdrawals and confusions from not having enough of me, a deficiency that robs you of sanity. I want you lost and forlorn, compass broken, a ship lost at sea, without an anchor tossed in the abyss, living the tumultuous nightmare of dreams unrealized, and locked in the boundless dungeons of frustrations.

Motherfucker, don’t you hear me? I want to roam the walls of your mind, dwell within your being, move into your heart; I want to live within you. I want you to wake with me on your mind, only to realize that you never fell asleep because you could not stop thinking about me, and even wishing that you could dream about me, kept you tossing and turning, because the nightmare of being without me robs you of sleep.

I want it to hurt, when you turn and I am not there. I want your heart to be gripped by the stabbing pain of cold loneliness. I want you to want to stop breathing, because the tightness in your chest won’t ease up and the knot in the back of your throat makes it impossible for you to swallow. You can’t breathe, I want you to suffocate if you can’t inhale me.

Fucking hell, you need to need me. You need to peg your survival to your proximity to me. You need to find your every purpose and your full desire in being with me. You need to conjure excuses and reasons unreasonable, ways to be around me all the time. You need to find a way to make your life about me. About mine, and love the things that I like, and laugh at the jokes that I make. Your fucking heart needs to stop when I walk into the fucking room and you better not be able to catch your fucking breath when I smile at you.

Hell, you better cry real fucking tears of joy when I lightly graze your arm, and your lips better quiver with the mouth-watering sensation when I part my lips because you imagine what it must taste like to place your lips on mine. Your taste buds better tingle when you even fucking think of it. Hell, when I hold your hand, your heart better race, your ears better get warm and you better melt. Your ears better ring from the pounding in your chest and your words better get stuck in your throat.

I just… I want you to want me the way I want you.