What I Wanted

I see your name more than I hear it now.

On my phone. On my screen.

Little blue reminders that you still exist

in a world that’s quiet without you.

When I catch your voice in a clip,

my memory betrays me

takes me back to the sound of your laugh,

the way it pulled me in,

the way my body softened in your presence

without even asking permission.

I miss how natural it felt to serve you.

How your direction turned chaos into calm.

I want you to tell me to drink water,

to eat something,

to rest,

to not spend money.

Correct me when I write “sir” instead of “Sir.”

Slap me when I roll my eyes or brat.

Ground me the way only you’ve done.

I miss the discipline I fought against

and secretly craved.

The way your voice wrapped around me

until my body remembered obedience.

The way you talked me through my release

like prayer, like possession,

like you could feel me from miles away.

The distance folded itself between us

like a punishment neither of us deserved.

I told myself walking away was protection,

but what I really wanted

was for you to stop me

to claim me even in the silence,

to say “no” again,

but this time to losing me.

I wanted voice notes.

The sound of your breath through my phone.

I wanted to become scared of the clicker.

To laugh at my own trembling.

To feel your lips on my forehead again,

the way you made peace

feel like second nature.

I wanted to explore the edges of myself with you,

to learn what trust and surrender could really mean,

to share spaces I never imagined opening for anyone else.
You handle my truths, my fears, my anxiety so well that

I wanted to offer you and only you my final first.

I wanted to experience sharing myself with others with you.

Another man….another woman….

As long as the common denominator is you.

I know why I let go,

because I am afraid to trust myself

but still

God, I wanted you to make me stay.