he said that I am ravishing

that I would make a bishop kick through a stained-glass window

that he wanted to kiss every single freckle on his way up my arm to my limpid green pools

and I am enchanted

but he keeps me waiting,

waiting

maybe because he feels that I am still searching

and maybe he is right

and yet, this man

this man with his romance, controlled passion, mystery and ability to hold me without touch

this man may just sustain me

write a new lexicon that seeks to define me

a vocabulary that finds new ways into me

perhaps even rewrite me into a woman who could be described as satisfied