I need color.
The glint of gold in her brown eyes, the flash of red on her lips. Yellow sunlight framing her face while she smells a blue flower, the green leaves kissing her cheeks.
I need music.
The beat of the drum overriding my heart, the rhythm of a guitar dancing in my bones. Harmonic voices weaving tapestries of imagination.
I need sex.
Whispers from fingers and irresistible urges grabbing. Pushing and pulling and needing, needing. Breath on hot skin, sweat and sin.
I need quiet.
No highways, no angry days. Movement of air and nothing to say about anything at all.
We describe our needs in such selfless terms,
we need to do what’s right by others,
we need to fulfill promises and obligations, we need to get to work,we need to be what we are seen to be.
Where is the place for a man,
when he knows what he needs, but cannot get?
What should I do with all of my future regrets?
If I chase my need I’ll be the villain, and if I play the role I’ve written for myself I’ll be the self-hating fool, earning his comeuppance.