Satisfaction.

This is a 5 minute free write in my Imaginative Writing class. Here's what came of it.

---I dust my hands of it. I have nothing in mind but the sheer happiness of what is right now. No one else can understand the beauty that exists in a place made solely for the person who made it.
I scrub baseboards and vacuum and do dishes for the sole purpose of a restful mind. This is when I can sleep at night. When the lights are out and the house is still, I can think about you kissing me, your hands going up my spine more tenderly than I could think.
Fuck sappy. I want something that is real. I want the satisfaction of being known but God knows I'm scared of telling you my secret.
I'm worried it's too late. That I've frustrated you to a point of no return. I'd understand. But I want a chance.
Mary said that if we can't do this, we can't do anything. I want something, but I may need someone else to tell me what it is. Two eyes bodies and feet long to lay down. The soft reverberation of voices late at night talking about things behind doors, open ajar.