All I actually want is to run to your arms, slip into your embrace and let my head fall onto your shoulder. And let it stay there. And after hours of holding you and being held, all I actually want is to kiss your neck and your forehead and your eyes and your shoulder and your lips. And your lips.

And I wish you would kiss back with passion, in a way that told me that you loved me just as deeply as I love you. I wish you loved me like this. I wish you wanted to kiss my face, to sweep my hair away and kiss it again. I wish you would grab me, trap me beneath your arms and you wouldn’t want to let me out. Ever. You wouldn’t want to let me go.

I wish you would lose your hand in my hair and pull my head further into your shoulder because you wanted to protect me. Because you wouldn’t want to watch me hurt. You wouldn’t hurt me.

I wish you would smile when you saw me running to you, because you knew that in that moment excitement had ignited my bloodstream and was rushing to my heart until it felt like it was on the brink of explosion. You’d smile because you knew because you felt it too.

But you don’t, and so I won’t, even though it’s all I actually want.

Instead I will wave and smile half the smile I’m capable of, when looking at you. I will say “hi” with a hug, and I’ll let go all too soon. That way it won’t be weird. I’ll talk with you cordially, kindly, even, but I won’t look at you the way I want to. I’ll look away too much. I will jerk myself from flirtation and that might make me seem bitter, and for that I’m sorry. Because being bitter will make me seem harsh and being harsh will make it seem like I don’t like you. And that just isn’t true. I love you. But that isn’t what I want.

This is unrequited love, and this is not at all what I want.