Dark and tall, he would be.
Teeth—milk sprung fresh from cattle tits.
Strong arms, toned shoulders, an abdomen of stone.
Black pearls as eyes, a bottomless pool to lose myself.
His prowess between the sheets—secret whispers of passionate encounters.
Long after climax—skin tingling from the aftermath of his touch.
Drenching me in precious stones—diamonds and laces adorning,
bricks of gold in deposit boxes, millions in every currency, palatial abodes as home.
I will be loved, accepted, and above all protected.
He would defend my honor. And if I had none, he would manufacture it—wrap me in it;
affix me on a pedestal no one could knock me off.
To and fro as I please, I will go.
Taking much, giving little—nonetheless, he will be grateful.

Up and down, back and forth, near and far, I searched for him.
The ground of reality was filled with stones and stubbles that bruised my heels.
I scratched the surface—till my nails broke and fingers bled.
There he is!
Yes, the one I traveled long and wide to reach.
His lips—sweet and intoxicating.
The more I drink, the more I thirst.
I am pulled into his magnetic core, oblivious of all others.
My contemplations are reflections of different shades of glistening embers,
the sky offering blue-turquoise blankets in obedience to the giddiness in my bosom.
Red rushes from my center to ears, neck, and face—filling each pore and cell,
hitting the blue—wrapping me in a wealth of purple.

With experience and growth, my list has been reviewed.
Spiritual wealth trumps materialism.
Strength in character was now number one.
He called me out on bad behavior, gave his best, and expected no less.
“You don’t check all the boxes!”
“Neither do you, but I’m still here!”
Realizing my folly, I looked within.
Should it have been about him or about me?
He wasn’t to complete but to compliment.
Love for myself I eventually found.
Pieces of me—breathing fire and moss.
The treasure I sought was here, within me to unearth, all along.





Photo by Clarke Sanders on Unsplash