He says he loves me, but what if he said…

May I tell you something about wanting you?

I want you selfishly.
I’m glad when you follow me into dangerous places. It comforts me, knowing you’ll be with me—even there.

I am not sorry about it.
And you deserve to know it.

I am vulnerable to you.
Because you were everything I refused to allow, right there in front of me with all that tempting life you lived.

You’re still that to me.

There’s more. Would you like to hear it?

I have grown jealous of the air itself.

All day long you breathe it in and out and speak your truths with it. When you walk, you move through it instead of me.
And it’s just not fair.
Breathe me in.
Turn the air away when it knocks at your lips. Tell it there’s another you’d rather have. Be fair to my jealous heart.

I cannot help but notice the earth under your feet.

Tell it mine are the only arms that hold you.
That I get to follow wherever you go, not it.
When it longs for the gentleness of your choices, speak my name aloud to remind it who may long for you.

I saw the sun as it kissed your cheek this morning.

Tell the sun it may borrow you for the day, if you insist on allowing it to. It must warm you kindly without fail and, once it sets, I reserve that right. But know that I hate the sun for the shivers it sees and the cure it brings.
I resent that your eyes trace its position to orient your world.

From these things, I will never recover.

Forgive you?
Done.

I will not forgive the world for keeping you.

But you are blameless for my suffering.

May I Tell You Something About Wanting You?

Meris Rosewick

Oct 11, 2026