Everyone wants a definition.
I don’t care for those things.
I reserve them for dictionaries,
and associate them with uptight individuals who live life undecorated.

We’re conditioned to crave that black and white—
everything simply categorized;

“A place for everything and everything in its place.”

I hate that.
I really, really do.
But I like you.

& listen, I can do without the definitions—
But opinions—those I want.
The individualized answers expressed in a non-textbook-fashion.

As in, “What are your thoughts on Sunday mornings?”
You know, when we hold each other for as long as we like,
and drift in and out of sleep well into the late afternoon.

An opinion.
As in, “I can’t stand the thought of being a part of someone’s collection.”
And I know that’s not a question.
But I can bet on this: You have something to say about that.

An opinion.
As in, “I would totally lay claim to you if I could.”
But you’re not into being claimed—
And I’m not into chasing things that don’t want to be caught.
I was never was a very effective huntress—
Unless, of course, it’s for typos or a triple word score.

I’m not reaching in the dark.
I’m not holding my breath.
But
If you want my opinion—

Fewer things feel worse than this.