i want...

i want art in the bathroom.

fresh flowers on fridays.

i want to light a birthday candle every morning just for that-smell-right-after-it's-been-blown-out.

i want the popped collar.

i want a lifetime of the-hand-on-the-thigh-in-that-way-that-doesn't-usually-survive-marriage.*

i want to be your two am secret. that little intake of air that rocks behind the lips like a horse at the start of a race.

i want the man who after hearing the whole of my story will ask, unprompted, what parts of your body did you hate the most? and then love them all the more.

i want to go to the beach. right now, i want to go. in the middle of this new york winter.

and i want to wear a bathing suit--a small one. just to attract the attention, just to feel those storied and much-talked-about long and withering glances. i want to lose days to the ocean. for the blue of the water to stain me, to wash me, to wrinkle and make a prune of me, and remind me that i'm deliciously human and capable of floating.

i want to make up for lost time.

and i want and i want and i want.

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and
i believe (again).


*inspired  by a phrase written by the inestimable anna  quindlen