Iconoclastic

“What do you want?” he asked me.

Four simple words, such a complicated question. Much like my answer, I want something so simple, and yet so complicated.

“I want to go to a concert and have warm arms wrapped around me. I want to lie on the chest of my lover and watch fireworks. I want to curl up next to him on the couch and watch a movie. I want to laugh. I want to cry. I want to hold hands, and smile, and annoy the people around me because I am so happy. I want to sit on the same side of a booth with someone on Sunday morning for breakfast and then lay in the park on a blanket for the rest of the day discussing life. I want to not always have to be the strong one, the caregiver, the mother. I want to be taken care of sometimes too. I want to not always be alone,” it all fell out of my soul faster than I could think, and I paused to take a deep breath.

“You have all of that with me babe.”

“Yes, but I want to be in love.”