I want conversation and car rides,
long nights of green eyes.
I want pastries with whipped cream,
text messages that make me kiss the screen.
I want belted Frank Sinatra,
followed by Moonlight Sonata.
I want gifts I can't afford
that you bought when you were bored.
I want to be calmed and collected,
defended and protected.
I want knowledgeable open-minds,
loquacious words to be defined.
I want my hands to be called soft
and looked at more often
I want my neck to be smelled
then my face to be held.
I want impressed parents,
please share your organic carrots.
I want admiring looks
over the top of Ayn Rand's books.
I want a loss of words
over a song that you just heard.
I want minor disputes
over ideas that don't compute.
I want you to continue to listen
when I question your decisions.
I want button-ups and bowties
that make you different from most guys.
I want time to freeze
and for you to always need me.
I want envious stares
from people who shouldn't care.
I want effortless chemistry
to attract me helplessly.
I want tension filled days,
say you want me with a gaze.
I want my back to be a painting so scandalous
you brush your lips up and down the canvas.
I want clean, boring sheets
to be livened with heat
that I provided.
I want you to be excited
when I come around.
Seasons change.