and i am only yours..

‘Let me be your angel’
Tiffany Evans sings-no, more yells- passionately into the mic. I am staying up late and watching ‘Late night at the Apollo,’ which is not a clever move on my part, as i am supposedly waking up early tomorrow for another long drive.

i want to be somebody’s girl. i want someone to look at me and think, ‘that’s ___’s girl.’ i want someone to lean in towards someone else, glance at me and whisper, ‘that’s ____’s girl.’

for once in my life i’d love to be defined by my belonging to someone else. i want that person’s strength and their persona and their character and THEIR identity to define me, a part of me, forever bound, our identities intwined in our love and belonging to each other. 

i want to be loved. i want others to see me and know that i am loved. i want others to see me and know that i am loved by the one i love, and that he loves only me- i am exquisitely taken and i only hold his attention and his affection, and behind closed doors and beyond prying eyes they know that only I see the intimate sweet moments. i want people to look at us and only dream of imagining the softness of our private time, which we would hide in public, visible in only momentary glimmers, a soft glance, a quick smile, a brush of the hands and lingering gaze.

i want girls to look at him and know that he is mine. i want to go to bed and snuggle up to my pillow and catch the coconut scent of my hair, and know that this scent is his and i am his and this sweet fragrance floating carefully into the fibers of my pillow are woven in there for only him. i want to wake up in the morning and brush that mascara sparkle into my eyes and a pink stain onto my lips so that others may see how beautiful i am being his, and how i am beautiful and yet only his- i am beautiful for only him. 

‘People do fall in love, people do belong to each other, because that’s the only chance anybody’s got for real happiness’ -Breakfast at Tiffany’s
And how could they not? And how beautiful it is, to relinquish your independent identity for the love of another, for a few sweet months at least to be intwined with that person.

‘I’d gladly give my freedom, to be held in your captivity.’ -India Arie.

 

<photo by http://www.flickr.com/photos/avp17/>