Sad Valentine

I want to hold her hand when we walk together.

I want to laugh with her over private jokes.

I want to curl up on the couch on a lazy weekend, and just enjoy each other's air.

I want to be her confidant.

I want to have intellectual conversations that make me pause with thought.

I want to hesitate when I first see her when she's dressed up.

I want to be inspired by her to better myself.

I want to be comfortable and nervous around her at the same time.

I want to wrestle in the playful way couples tease.

I want to fuck. Not make love, but fuck with a reckless abandonment that leaves our souls dirty.

I want to make love for hours, slow and sweet to sounds of jazz and love songs.

I want to bring her medicine when she's sick.

I want to watch her sleep.

I want to have her rub my head, run her nails down my back.

I want to be kissed by her.

I want to support her dreams, share in her triumph.

I want to comfort her in times of sorrow.

I want to finish each other’s thoughts.

I want to cook for her, her favorite dish.

I want to rub her feet.

I want to just be...with her.

Please.