Being desired has never been enough.
It never lasts.
It’s loud at first, then disappears when things get quiet.

It touches the surface but never lingers long enough
to understand what lives underneath.

It sees the body 

but not the burden.
The smile, 

but not the silence behind it.

It fades,
but I was never meant to dim with desire

I need more.

I need someone 

who sees the little girl in me.
The one who held her breath to keep the peace,
who learned to swallow words just to survive.

Someone who recognizes the weight I carry
without needing me to explain it.
Who meets my history with presence,
not performance.

With steady hands,
gentle eyes,
and a voice that doesn’t rush to fix me,
only to hold space.

Someone who looks deeper than 

brown skin and full lips,
who sees the ache behind the strength.

Whose heart softens knowing 

I was strong because I had to be,
because no one else lightened the load.

Someone who understands 

that my bashfulness
isn’t coyness, 

it’s fear.

That nerves are stitched into my laugh
because I never had a safe place to land.
No soft spaces.
No open arms without conditions.

I don’t crave desire.
I crave presence.
I crave understanding.

Explore my mind,
not just my body.
Challenge my intellect.
Pull me out of the thoughts that sometimes drown me.

I love it in my head,
but I also want to be here,
in the room,
in the breath,
in this moment.

Study me,
not just the rhythm of my breath,
the rise and fall of my chest,
but the cadence of my kindness.

The subtleties in my speech.
The temperature of my spirit.

Let it be the one
who was listening when God whispered about me.
The one who didn’t guess,
he prayed.

And God gave him the blueprint.
The one who came already knowing
how to love me without breaking me open.

The one I can’t hide from.
The one who sees me.
Not Renny.
Re’Niisha.