Miss Being Wanted Without Being Touched

Lately, I don’t miss sex.
I miss anticipation.
I miss the way someone’s eyes would linger a second too long, like they were undressing a thought, not my body.
I miss conversations that felt like foreplay — slow, intentional, dangerous.
I want to be wanted in that quiet way again.
The way that makes you sit up straighter.
The way that makes you aware of your skin.
I want someone who notices how my voice softens at night.
Someone who reads between my words and smiles instead of asking questions.
I don’t want rush.
I don’t want noise.
I want tension.
I want connection.
I want that moment where nothing has happened yet… but everything already feels inevitable.

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