not to need you

I once wished not to need you–
not to need your words or your hands or your help
or your approving glance.
I once wished that I might be enough
for myself all by myself.
The only dance worth dancing was the bold solo
with my head on no one’s shoulder
and I would win or be my own acclaim.

I once wished not to need you–
not to need your heartbeat next to my ear
or your steady breathing.
I once wished to be legendary:
mythical, winged, selfless.
The only role worth playing was the rescuer
who never needs a rescue
and I told myself I was very brave.

I once wished not to need you,
but in the same breath, I wished you to want me
more than anything else.
I wished that I might be enough
to keep your gaze forever.
Suddenly, the only dance worth dancing was slow,
with your hand around my waist.
Then, I knew that I’d never not need you
and I knew that I’d never not want to.

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