Relationship Imagines

Codependency

I want a real kind of love. Something that matters. Something that others can feel just by seeing the two of us together. I want people to taste the tension we leave in the air. Others to smell the passion between our sneaky glances. 

I want to be wanted. How can it be that you give me an ounce of attention whenever you so please and leave me on my toes, waiting for the moment you'll release the stress in my shoulders from the boulder of a question, "Love me, love me not?"

How is it that whenever we're together I realize, "Maybe you're not the one for me," and then with the words you next mumble, you create an atmosphere of perfection, no, simplicity? The moment you're gone again I crave the way you nod when you listen to me and the sly jokes you crack. Though you irk me so, I can't wait for my next fix of you. I can't wait to see your back walk away again so I can chase it down the hall for another hint of your scent. 

Is that what love is? Is it, perhaps the fact that neither of us has admitted it, what creates this uneasiness in my chest? This pounding in my ears and this lump in my throat? Is it the chase that causes my foot to tap and my breathing to quicken while sitting still in the seat beside you?

Is this even love? Is it love that causes this satirical irony of obsession and desire? Or is it perhaps false hope, or loving love? Is it maybe needing and wanting and craving love so bad I'll crawl and scratch and beg on my knees for it?

Why can't you just love me? Why can't you just spit it out? Tell me how you really feel so we can get this over with. This game of indecisive cat and mouse is getting old. I promise you the feeling is mutual, so, please, give me the real love you know I need.