Well, Arent You Sassy, Today?

Well, aren’t you sassy, today?

-If you get to know me, you’ll find I’m always like this. Ask any of my friends.

Is that a hypothetical or a proposition?

-What is?

Getting to know you better.

I deserve better - a gentleman, a gallant, a chivalrous knight, a king. A man who knows the value of a woman and protects and nourishes it every day of his life. A man who doesn’t feel entitled to her love but rather earns it and does their best to deserve it daily.

A man who cares, instead of having nonchalance be their sole response to every thing. A man that is gentle and holds you as such - not as something that might break but as something precious that can only ever be cherished while it’s present; one who understands there’s no time to waste.

Next time you think of lowering your standards, listen to that whisper inside you: “I deserve better.”

You fucking do!

You deserve someone who inspires your growth and alignment with a higher self, not someone who sinks you down to their level, or lower. Not someone who is only ever going to take, and take, and take like a thief. Not someone who is going to distract you from your goals and passions.

You deserve better! And if they try and convince you otherwise, they are not it, my friend! No matter how “hot” they may be.

There’s something about “standing in the fire next to you… // something they can’t take away…” that hits hard.

I just want someone to want me that way. Through fire and storm.

Is to be wanted so much to ask for? Such a grand, improbable thing?

My love language is memorizing little details of you that not even you are aware of. I stash them in a box in my brain labeled “Memories of You”

I like my guys mysterious, puzzling. I like taking my sweet time undoing a question mark. I like mulling over ambiguous “what ifs” and “what did he mean when he said” and “when he did”

I like pinning and yearning in secrecy. I like the thrill of accidentally brushing hands, meeting gaze.

I like the idea of having you before it becomes real. I like the possibility hanging in the air. The held breath of excitement.

I don’t even care if he likes me back, or busies himself with the same hypotheticals as I do. I just like the crushing part.

Honestly, atp, I don’t even care what you might think of me cause while you are talking about me, I’m out here lighting my candle sticks over old wine bottles, doing some self-work, loving myself unconditionally and surrounding myself with ideas and experiences that bring me unbridled joy.

I just don’t care anymore, tbh. Think what you will.

Part of me warns that not everything is as first seems and that in order to believe, I must first thoroughly understand.

An equal part voices that I mustn’t always understand in order to believe.

I’m caught somewhere between the symphony of voices.