Solitary Woman

Photo by Ali Pazani on
I am a solitary woman whose love languages 
Are touch and quality time,
And no amount of loving myself or touching myself 
Or taking myself on dates because I deserve a good time too, 
Will negate the hole I feel of not having a man,

The hole that can only be filled by a man’s hands,
His hands stretched out like a clock openly embracing my body,
Oh, how I wish I could stop time’s persistent flow, 
If only to drink in the stimuli of your body, 
And absorb it on a cellular level like warm sunshine, 
and have the salty sea spray envelope my body at the beach!

I want your voice played on a loop,
I want to feel the constant, 
Yet unpredictable pressure of your fingers 
Running alongside my skin, 
I want the image of your face, 
And the dilation of your eyes 
Seared in the back of my brain, 
I want the scent of your cologne mixed 
With your sweat and pheromones wafting 
Like lazy jazz notes hanging in the air, 
I want the taste of your tongue warm and sweet 
Like grilled pineapple to be the last taste I ever taste,
I want to freeze time, 
But its persnickety cadence persists, 
And your hands keep missing mine, 
We can’t seem to catch our breath, 
Yet alone each other,

I am a solitary woman whose love languages 
Are touch and quality time, 
I’ve learned to adapt, 
I have learned to wrap myself in a weighted blanket, 
It is warm and pressurized, 
But I can still feel the coldness 
Of the metal washers sewn in,

 I have learned to say my inner dialogue out loud, 
I may seem crazy, but I feel a little less lonely in the moment, 
I distract myself with smells of lit candles like Tahitian Dreams 
And Mahogany Coconut, watch the flame flicker, and the aroma waft
 Until the fury light extinguishes slowly sinking the smell to the ground, 
I buy take out for two if only 
To have my lunch prepared for the next day,
 Or if I am feeling brave, I grab a table for one, 
And I distract myself by scrolling fake Instagram photos, 
If I want to hear praise, I will spend three hours getting ready 
To go for a bagel, and take four hundred photos 
Just to feel the dopamine hits of people pressing the like button,

I am a solitary woman, 
I learned self-defense, and make my own money, 
I have plumbers and mechanics on speed dial, 
I do my own car research, and I found my own voice 
 To tell off whomever needs a good tongue lashing, 
But my love languages are touch and quality time, 
And loving myself is not the same as 
Someone loving me the way I crave to be loved 
Strong and gentle urgent and timeless. 
I am a solitary woman in need of the love of a man,
 And I am not ashamed

By Hyacinth Hale

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s