I Will Be Your Wild

Christian Acosta

I will be the voice in your head telling you to run, bare feet flying on the pavement beside you, kicking up dust in our wake. I will be the body next to yours, listening to you talk about dreams, kissing each wish to life on your lips.

I will be the strong legs that walk before you, guiding our path. I will be the tilted compass, leading us away on purpose, getting us lost in forests and fields and each other’s arm—forgetting, for a moment, that time holds us captive.

I will be the laughter like a melody in your ears, the chorus of your favorite song, and you tap the rhythm along my ribcage, against my spine, into my lips when we kiss, never missing a beat.

I will be the girl your mother warned you about—too loud and too stubborn and too free. Unkempt hair and bare feet and thoughts and feelings far too bold for that body.

I will be collarbones and hipbones and skin that tastes like fruit and grass and sun and earth and all the places you have left to explore but can already taste somehow.

I will be the fluttering of your heartbeat, the tingle in your fingertips, the way you just can’t catch your breath when we kiss.

I will be the bright blue sky, the dark of night, the mid-afternoon blazing sun, and the rising rays, still quiet and hidden in clouds. I will be the way the ground folds under your feet, the rushing of waves and waterfalls, the silence and the absence of it, and all things untamed.

I will be the girl you try to grasp between your fingertips, then relent because she’s spinning, dancing, laughing—never quite still. I will be the girl you let go of, the girl you twirl in your arms, deciding to dance with, rather than to hold.

I will be the girl you chase, the girl you run alongside, the girl who spins you in circles but doesn’t play games. The girl who loves you with her whole being, entire soul, every heartbeat for you—but always for herself, too.

I will be your wild—What you cannot keep, yet already have in your heart. What you cannot control, yet are welcomed to love.

And you and I will run, will dance, will set each other free with every kiss. Because this is what love is—not ownership, but sweet, sweet release in the arms of another.

Both unexplainably connected, and both suddenly wild. TC mark

Marisa Donnelly

Marisa is a writer, poet, & editor. She is the author of Somewhere On A Highway, a poetry collection on self-discovery, growth, love, loss and the challenges of becoming.

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