I want to be his trophy.
I want to be that shiny brass he holds over his head.
I want to be the gold medal he wears proudly.
I want to be his trophy.
He had the courage to speak truth to me, and I haven’t been able to extricate myself since. Nor do I want to. He is that inspiration that I’ve been waiting on. He challenges me, stands toe to toe with me, points out my bullshit. Supports me but does not enable me. Spoils me but does not bow to me. His voice is the first and the last I hear each day. He is my anchor, my endless supply of strength. My courage to go forth and risk knowing that he will not let me fall. His love is my truth.
He. Sees. Me. Not his idea of me. Not his hopes for me. Does not focus on the packaging. He looked inside, obliterated each obstacle, grabbed my cowering self by the collar, and Saw…Me. And once he witnessed my flawed, stubborn, baggage-carrying, issue-having, sarcastic, scarred form, there was no retreat. Revived the woman in me that the last man did not appreciate. He waited, with no pressure, until I was ready. Though I tried at every turn to stave off his march toward me, he continued until my heart beat in his hands.
If I am an immovable object, he is an unstoppable force.
He. Hears. Me. Not just the anger but the pain behind my words. Does not distract himself by my aggressive rhetoric. Refuses to be intimidated by my intelligence. Is not threatened by my outspokenness. He sits. He listens. Gives me his full attention and discusses. We disagree but he listens. Answers my 3AM phone calls and listens. Receives my epic texts and listens. Placates me with ice cream after work and listens. Wipes my tears of frustration and listens. Refuses to allow my defenses to shield my words. He gives me the space to be vulnerable. And He. Listens.
He. Loves. Me. Stares at me like a lion eyeing his prey. Does not make love to my body but my soul. Touches my temple knowing it is God-created. Gives me strokes that makes me soar to dangerous heights of pleasure but guides my way back to earth where he waits. Brings me to the precipice only to slow down my fall to enjoy each moment that I come apart. Then pulls me close wrapping his soul around mine. Understands an orgasm is amplified when a woman is wrapped in a man’s security following. He does not fuck me back to sleep. His love is the reason I sleep.
He. Commands. Me. Demands my all. Pulls me onto the battlefield to fight for this, for us. Overwhelms with affection that turns me three shades of red. Wraps his love around me like my favorite blanket. Love that causes smiles that makes me a candidate for the asylum.
And I. Want. Him.
- explosions through my fingertips.
- my heart palpitating dangerously when I see him.
- reasons to leap end-tables when I hear his ringtone.
- to smile to myself, maybe even brag, when I hear females lamenting the poor selections of men in their life.
- to be his inspiration because he is mine.
His work ethic is relentless; his drive inspires me. There is success in his failures and never does it deter him. No quitting. No complaining. Just gets up and does it again. He respects all, takes no pleasure in belittling the next. He uses his words to uplift and support, does not disparage his exes, takes responsibility for his actions. He expresses himself like he was Ivy-League educated but fucks me like he was raised on the streets of rural Louisiana. He’s MY man and never commits an act that calls it into question. Yet he’s A man and refuses to let me (or another) treat him as anything less. I stare up at him in awe for I wonder how did I finally manage to get it right.
But I shall do my damnedest to make sure I deserve him.
If it means moderating my carbs and forcing cardio upon my form, I shall.
If it means exiting my comfort zone and watching football because he loves the Cowboys, I shall.
If it means striving, pushing myself in my career just to hear him say “I’m proud of you, baby,” I shall.
If it means using my free Saturday to hit the hair salon, nail salon, so that he never hesitates to display me boastfully, I shall.
If it means doing things I don’t usually (i.e. cooking) so that he has all he needs in me, I shall.
If it means giving more than I’ve ever given so that I’m the one he calls when he needs a shoulder, I shall.
I want to be his most valued accessory.
I want to be that perfect compliment to his every fit.
I want to be his greatest accomplishment.
I want to be his reward from God for a job well done.
Love makes your soul crawl out of its hiding place. – Zora Neale Hurston
Today’s Soundtrack: Adele – Remedy “No river is too wide or too deep for me to swim to you/ Come whatever, I’ll be the shelter that won’t let the rain come through/ Your love, it is my truth/ And I will always love you”