she wanted

She wanted dark, mysterious. She wanted cigarette smoke behind black eyelashes and heavy leather. She wanted skin that smelled like a bonfire, like ashes and sand. She wanted stubble and burgundy wine on pale pink lips. She wanted gaping, dark eyes that held all the stars and kept them just for her. She wanted calloused hands and unexplained bruises. She wanted shattered glass on the kitchen floor just to taste the chaos she’d been deprived of. 

Until all those things began to seem like a dream. 

And then she wanted sun. She wanted the gentle kiss of morning dew on her cheeks. She wanted shirts that smelled of warm bread, of raspberry jam, of home. She wanted soft, slender fingers to brush her stray hairs tenderly. She wanted eyes that reflected lakes, deep and crystalline. She wanted to see herself in those eyes so she wouldn’t get lost. She wanted lemonade and crisp puff pastry. She wanted lazy mornings and lazy afternoons that she could pull apart like taffy.

Until those things, too, slipped her mind. 

For then she wanted knowledge. She wanted the smell of coffee lingering in her hair. She wanted focus, direction, intensity. She wanted adrenaline to leap and bound unrestrained in her soul. She wanted the rhythmic heartbeats of Chopin and Rachmaninoff in her ears, familiar and grounding. She wanted lacy button up shirts that she could unbutton for a man of intellect. She wanted a tea stained journal to record the yearnings of her heart. She wanted a pocket watch and thin, wire rimmed glasses. She wanted the mind-turning, breathtaking feeling of learning how small one truly is in this universe and for once not turning from it. 

Until those things felt silly to wish for. 

Slowly, but surely, she began to want very little. She wanted the chaos of rain, and the silence of the moments after. She wanted the grass to stay green, and the trees to stay standing. She wanted the mountains to shake humans off their man-made pedestals, to bring them to their rightful place beneath Earth. She wanted someone to look at the contents of her soul, to need them as badly as one needs air, and to need someone just as sharply. And she wanted the stars to welcome her back home, despite all she’d taken, used, and broken, while she’d spent all her life wanting.