I do not want you.
Not the feel of your skin on mine.
Not the presence of your voice
subverting my thoughts through whispers.

No.
I do not want you.
I need you.

Like breath after drowning,
like the ache before a scream—
I need the lilt of your voice
to sing in my ear,
to soothe the places
I didn’t know were burning.

Like the sun chasing away the remnants of rain,
or autumn cooling the blaze of summer.
Your arrival is a balm to my soul.

I do not want you.
Not the gleam in your eye,
nor the curve of your smile,
not the weight of your gaze
when the room goes quiet.

No.
I need you—
like a pulse beneath my skin,
like truth I cannot unknow.