I'm not one of those people
Who can bury that itch,
So very down deep
That they can't even scratch.

Certainly, most days, I'm satisfied with Me,
Just can't seem to be satisfied with Just me.

I want four hands, not two,
And four feet, covered in warm woolen socks between sheets.
I want clamoring voice from a throat that's not mine.
I want two heads, two hearts,
Two toothbrushes.

Different length hair in the shower
(You clean it out)
Accidental-shrunken work shirts
Cussing fights while I finish the laundry
Surprise apologies later.

Nights of scheduling compromise
Days of scheduling compromise
How many sick days can we skip work with?

I don't need some long-distance,
Not-a-relationship
Just-friends-with-benefits
Bull­****.

I cannot hug me
I cannot bury my face in my chest
And just breathe.
My arms don't reach far enough,
And I get a crick in my neck only to find that
My shirts just smell like cheap soap.

Not looking for marriage.
Ten years until kids.
Maybe a dog later on.
We'll walk it together, and you can bag the poo...

It could be I'm just too addicted to ***.
Or maybe I wear too much lingerie.
My corsets and evening gowns show too much of my flesh?
I know too many good random subjects for conversation?
My **** looks too good.
Your **** looks too good?

Pick one and tell me,
So I can  find that one thing
That keeps the timing from not lining up
Or lets me meet men that aren't married, or
Under 18, Under 21, Under-able to carry out a conversation with words longer than 2 syllables.

I probably won't even see it coming,
That day when I find that someone who satisfies Just Me.
But for now, can I please find
Someone to just satisfy me?