I want to take off, to leave everything and shirk the responsibilities with which we've shackled ourselves (we didn't know any better, how could we have known?) and live just to live. To sleep under stars and next to train tracks, rattling us as they go. To forget text messages and anything that's not this moment.
I want my life to be what's happening to me now, and not what happened or will happen, what has hurt or will hurt, what you do just to stay alive.
I want to get lost in arms and warmed in body heat, to explore the nooks and crannies of forests and mountains or even just the backseat of a car, where all we can see is our breath but we can hear civilization pass by while we sleep. But to hang our feet off cliffs! To bike or stroll or run or ride down paths well-worn by the free before us.
I want you to look at me and see what you keep for yourself, and for me to be able to do the same.
We'll come back, of course, we'll always come back. But with new expression, new life, new discoveries shared with equal weight and depth of feeling. How cliche to want those things which are nothing, the simple acts of living, to mean everything. And yet also, how refreshing. That just experiencing could be enough.
I want those arms to find me.