I want her to want me. Like I want her. I want her to want my skin on her bones, my lips on her as she works her body into mine. I want her to wake up with nothing but the thought of me, all encompassing, draping over her like a shawl on a wet winter morning. I want her to be taken over by the thought of seeing me again, of eyes held, of breaths taken. I want her to want me like I want her; to spend her day willing her phone to ring, counting down the hours, minutes, and seconds till we can be together. I want her to think of me as she sits at her desk. To think of me sitting at my desk, thinking of me thinking of her. I want her to savor each moment, undisturbed. I can’t resist this feeling she gives me. It makes me want to hide under the covers and simultaneously find her at the mountaintop, proclaiming love.

Quite possibly the best piece I’ve read. Of course it’s from Autostraddle.