all i long for is to be held, not touched;
to feel safe in someone’s arms, to feel safe in someone’s presence.
i just want something different than the restless, hungry hands that have left trails across my skin—
something other than my curves turning into one’s favorite playground.
all i long for is to be loved, not desired;
to wake up to breakfast in bed every morning, to see adoration in someone’s eyes when they look at me.
i just want something different than those lecherous gazes that have undressed every part of me—
something other than the sight of me being a trigger for someone’s hunger.
all i long for is to be cherished, not owned;
to hear the words “i’m so proud of you” come out of someone’s mouth, to have open arms to run into after i win a game.
i just want something different than those words that slip out of their lips saying “you’re my pretty little doll”—
something other than feeling like a child’s toy, tossed aside once outgrown.
all i long for is to be heard, not shushed;
to lay on someone’s lap as i cry about my inner demons, to sob into someone’s chest until sleep quietly takes over me.
i just want something different than those cruel voices that pierce through my biggest cries—
something other than those cold orders even as tears of blood slip through in silence.
no matter if it takes a million years or a little longer than eternity,
i will always look forward to going to the world—
to the world where i’m something more than a pet kept on its leash,
to the world where i’m something other than a trend that will die eventually,
to the world where i’m held in someone’s arms that wouldn’t dare to shatter me;
never touched like a possession, never shown off like a trophy.
this is a sort of sequel to my "bus stop" poem