The salty taste of teardrops and unagi.
It's embarrassing, but I want to be loved.
The kind that overwhelms and softly teases
The one that makes me drunk
Off his smile and voice.
I want to hold his hand,
Just because I can.
Intertwine our fingers,
Feel the warmth of his larger one enveloping mine.
I want to hold him;
Rest my head onto his chest,
Fidget and move,
Until I find the perfect nook in his arms.
My first kiss:
I'll be on my tip toes,
And he'll lean down.
I'll rest a hand on his cheek,
The other over his heart.
He'll sing to me.
And I'll relish the moments,
No matter how much urging it took for him to begin.
I want him to love me so much,
He'll open up his heart to be hurt by my silly selfishness.
For the first time in this lonely world,
I don't want to be the only naive romantic with my open heart.
And when I break his,
Over some argument that meant nothing.
Not for the first time in my life,
I'll cry for another person's pain and suffering I caused.
And when he moves on and loves another.
And I'm still writing my poems.
Vainly trying to capture the details of his love in our cherished moments,
I'll know; however, painfully:
That this was love.
That I was loved.
And no matter what history we will share,
I thank him for loving someone like me.