It’s the same old routine.

They walk down these aged steps

for what seems to be the millionth time.

He holds her hand, and she holds his,

yet they can’t seem to hold one decent conversation.

At least not one that goes anywhere beyond “How was your day?”


He tells her that it was fine,

and she tells him “so was mine”,

but they both know that the small talk is only a way to pass the time

until they find themselves in that secluded corner of the parking lot yet again,

huddled in the backseat, clothes flying in a flurry.


Their lips locked furiously.

Gripping hands,

grazing mouths,

swiveling eyes

and traveling tongues.

But she wants MORE.



She wants an interlocking of minds,

so together their thoughts can travel together,

traversing through the vast divinities of the universe.


She wants someone to suckle upon her soul,

seeking out both its greenest pastures and its crumbling corners

and to drink the pleasure from both as if their tastes are one and the same.


She want the strength of callused hands grabbing her anxieties,

snapping them in half with the sheer force of passion,

then holding her with the reverence that Atlas should have had when holding up the sky.


She wants someone to trace her spine,

like that of a dusty book with a faded cover and bent corners.

Someone who knows that although she has been left discarded and unread for a long time,

she is worth more than just a skim.


She is an encyclopedia of love and misadventures,

and it may take more than just one read to understand,

but she knows it would be worth it.



She want searching eyes to look into her own,

and to see something more than dark black eyes staring back at them.

She wants someone to look into her eyes and see that they are not black.

Someone who sees that they are the color of dark flowing chocolate

which has been melted by the heat of a compassionate heart.


She want someone who will look into her eyes and see everything she's ever seen.

See everything she's ever done.

To see and maybe not comprehend it all,

but to give her a look that shows her you still understand.


She wants someone to explore the depths of her core,

because the core of her compassion is hidden

It is hidden somewhere deeper and darker than the most destroyed depths of the sea,

but if you can find it then you will finally see that she is more than just a body.


She is more than the flesh he feels beneath he feels skin.

She is more than the heartbeat he feels pounding against his chest.

She wants more because she IS more.




When it is all said and done, he looks at her and tells her she is beautiful.

She does not want anyone to her to tell her that she is beautiful.


Not until they have seen the sobs bursting from the empty entity that she calls her existence,

the sobs that leave her shattered in small pieces strewn about her bedroom floor.

Not until they've seen that the real beauty is standing up and smiling

after sticking the shards back together.


He looks at her and says "You are beautiful."

She says "You have never seen me at all."