To set my record straight,
it isn’t that I just desire you or sexualize you.
It’s far more simple and complex than that.

Yes, I notice your hips and your bust and the cut of your shirt.
And I will freely admit that I have fantasized –
and all the deep, dark things you fear I may have thought
have likely crossed my mind at one time or another.

The sight of the nape of your neck has made me dream
of what that smooth skin would feel like under my lips
and the subtle flash of a midriff is sometimes enough
to leave me shuddering with the desire to embrace you.

You are a heavy draught of a fine liquor,
powerful and intoxicating and sometimes overwhelming…
Yet, I will rarely approach you because you are a person;
you are not a thing.

What I want is not a night of sordid passions,
regardless of what my libido claims,
but instead the warmth of welcoming arms
to comfort and crave me in turn.

So yes, I love and desire you,
ardently, fervently, intensely, and deeply,
but you are not a thing
and I refuse to treat you like that.

My favorite songs are not
pop, country, rap, or metal.
It takes more than titles
to earn my affections.

My songs don’t start with a couple
and end with a kiss;
those dime-store romances
are a dollar-a-dozen.

I don’t like the clubbing kids –
it’s really not my scene.
And gospel tends to get me down,
there’s too much brimstone in my blood.

The songs which make me sway
are the ones within songs
about the grace and inspiration
that kickstarted an artist’s soul.