girl with hand over her face, fall in love with the way I think, love
Gabriel Ecraela

I don’t need you to see me throughout the room and picture your fingertips tracing my pores and skin, or your lips on my mouth. I don’t need you to speak to me with wandering eyes, scanning over each a part of me. I don’t need you to whisper in my ear, to coax me, to inform me that you simply need to be nearer, to get to know me after we’re alone.

I don’t need to be your object of need. I don’t need to be your problem, your pursuit, your chase. I don’t even need to be an individual, a bodily entity so that you can have and to carry. See, I’m not concerned with how your fingers lengthy to really feel my hips, how your kiss needs to land on my mouth, how your eyes need to search over each cell and curve.

I don’t need you to fall in love with my physique, I need you to fall in love with who I am.

I need you to fall in love with my mind, with the way in which I suppose. I need you to fall in love with the phrases I say, with the unstated strains of poetry perpetually being written in my mind. I need you to fall in love with the way in which I inform tales, or daydream when it’s quiet and the morning solar continues to be rising. I need you to fall in love with the way in which I argue, with the sentences I craft, with the ideas which might be developing and deconstructing in my head.

I need you to fall in love with the way in which I really feel. With the way in which I course of. With the way in which I see the world, and the potential we’ve got to see it collectively. I need you to fall in love with essentially the most genuine a part of me—the half that’s hidden and cautious and passionate and wild. The a part of me that exhibits who I am past the realm of my bodily self.

I need you to fall in love with my soul, my coronary heart, my mind. I need you to fall in love with the way in which I see the world, with the way in which I suppose as a result of I will perpetually be more than a body, greater than two eyes, two legs.

I need you to know the ache I’ve encountered, the demons I’ve fought, the battles I’ve received and the challenges I’ve overcome. I need you to know what makes me really feel alive, what music I can’t cease dancing to, what books I can learn again and again.

I need you to fall in love with my vocabulary, with the tone of my voice, with the conversations I can have with you in regards to the strangest of subjects—conversations the place we each lose observe of time and place.

I need you to fall in love with the emotional, the non secular, the sensual realm that exists past my pores and skin.

I need to shut my eyes and lay subsequent to you, not awaiting your contact, however listening to the silence earlier than your mouth speaks phrases to me. Earlier than questions whisper out of your lips, filling the area between us with a longing to dig deeper, to find extra.

I don’t need you to fall in love with the way in which I look, with the curves of a physique that may by no means be everlasting. I need you to fall in love with me, with who I am—what I say, imagine, really feel.

I need you to fall in love with the way in which I suppose. TC mark