I Want to Know Love Again.
I want to know love again. I want to recognize that moment when the word is stuck trying to climb out of your throat when it’s pulsing at the very brim of your heart, and when it’s slipping off of your tongue and tumbling like stars from your eyes waiting to be caught.
I don’t want to get to know heartbreak again. I am through imagining the past, debating what ifs, regretting mistakes, and questioning the heart between my ribs. I am done with repairs, with excuses, and with the doubts that linger between sleepless nights.
I want to know love again. I want to feel the type of way the makes you feel guilty for being alive — for being able to feel like you do. I want to feel the way it feels when the world is upside down because reality turns out to be better than the wishes you used to leave on stars when you were young.
I don’t want to get to know heartbreak again. I am done with misread messages, unrequited love, midnight misbegotten memories, and with chasing ghosts. I do not want to fall, I do not want to break, I do not want to run anymore or to fight so hard any longer.
I want to know love again. I want to believe that somewhere he’s out there looking at the same moon with the same dream and with the same future. So every night I pretend to write my name on the moon in the hopes that one day he’ll know me instantly.
I don’t want to get to know heartbreak again. I am through clinging to broken hearts, the ends of love songs, and falling in lust with passing souls on sidewalks. I am over trading my name for a drink and trading a night for company. I am done not being enough.
I want to know love again. I want to wake relieved because the night is over and I have the day awake, with you. I want to go to sleep with a calm relief because I have nothing to lose with the morning sun or the many sunrises to follow. I want to be sure, to be certain, and to hear the same conviction in the back of someone’s throat when they said my name.
I don’t want to get to know heartbreak again. I don’t want to be just friends, to wonder what sits in between the silence or to daydream of things that are only my imagination. I don’t want to lie to myself between tears, fears, and apologies. I don’t want to be deaf to my family or friends when they’re only speaking the truth.
I want to know love again. I want to see the future change every time I hold his hand, watching it slowly alter while forever intertwined perfectly with mine. I want to age unhurriedly with laughter and fits of joy that matures our souls into a sweet, sweet wine where we forever get drunk just from one another’s smile.
I don’t want to know heartbreak again. I don’t want to think of memoirs that already had their end and of stories that didn’t make it past a single page. I want to write the history that is us without ever expecting an ending. I want to live inside the comma with someone, forever.
I want to know love again — or for the first time. I want to know the type of love that stays and doesn’t go. The one that walks with you like a guardian, loves you like a world wonder and cherishes you like you are theirs and they are yours. I want to know this love where enough is inconsequential because it will always be more.
I don’t want to know heartbreak again. I don’t want to shy from expectations because that’s what people tell me to do. I don’t want to silence my hopes and my dreams because it hasn’t worked out, because I’m scared that it won’t, or because society scoffs at a young woman holding onto a little girl’s fairy tale.
I want to know love. And until I do, you’ll find me staring up at the moon. Wishing. Believing. Waiting, for you.