Selfish

I miss you. And I'm trying to learn to be less selfish and more selfless.

I admit that I'm selfish. I'm a very selfish person. I want your attention, and your love, and everything about you. I want to be yours and you to be mine. I want to wake up in your arms every morning, hide my face in your neck from the chirpy sunlight streaming in from the gap in the curtain, and you to allow me to grumble about being awake. I want you to help a stumbling me into the shower, peel off the clothes that have clung to my body, and wake me up by kissing me under the warm water jets, our own version of mistletoe.

I want your hands, firm yet gentle, to soap up my body, not linger anywhere longer than need be and scrub that spot in the middle of my back I need to become a contortionist to reach. I want you to trail kisses over my shoulders and neck as I get dressed, your hands keeping a tight grip on my hips so I can't squirm away when you blow on my warm skin, making goosebumps appear as you smirk to yourself. I want you to stop me at the doorway before I head out for my day, lean me against a wall and give me a kiss that leaves me with a tingle in my belly and the desire of needing more. I want you to welcome me back home, arms open and a listening ear for any complaints I may have, or any successes which have occurred.

I want to do the same for you. I want to be the person you rely on, who you call in the middle of the day, needing to vent and let your anger out in a quick burst. The person you want to give you a massage, and not mind if you fall asleep on them. I want you to reach out to me, and spill your darkest secrets and reveal your deepest desires. I want you to have no shame, and no fear in sharing with me.

I want to be the reason that a fire starts in your belly, that a shiver runs down your spine when it’s not cold, and that your stomach is doing flip after flip just because I walked into the room and gave you a coy smile. I want to trail my fingertips across your body and have you press into my touch, wanting, needing, aching for more. For me. I want to be the person who fulfils your every wish; from late night conversations about philosophy and bizarre language occurrences, to midday make out sessions, to after-breakfast sprints around the table and kitchen island as you attempt to tickle me.

I want our conversations to last years, and our touches to last months. I want your kiss to linger on my lips for days, and for your words to echo in my ears for an eternity.