I want a love that’s like a contradiction. I want it loud like Times Square on New Years when there are so many people I can’t even hear
you laugh in my ear.
I want it quiet like ruffling sheets and lukewarm cups of coffee and Sunday afternoon light streaming in the window. I want it colorful like Christmas lights shining on your face, sitting next to our tree. I want it dark like panic attacks and broken plates and insecurities and just breathing in, breathing out. I want it clean, like fucking khakis and rolling my eyes at you over game night at my parents’ house
eating your second slice of pie.
I want it dirty like rucked up skirts and soaked panties and wet, slick and no time for the bed so the kitchen tile will have to do. I want it big and vast like holding your hands as we finally see the sunrise and the entire world waking up I want it small like our pinkies linked over the gearshift with only two hours until home but I feel like I’m already there.

















