yearning

I yearn for something I'm utterly convinced exists.

I yearn for a knowing smile, a private glance.

I yearn for a neck to nuzzle up to, to tell of every little delight.
In return I yearn for being a shoulder to snuggle up to, to listen to every little problem.

I yearn for sharing ability, for accomplishing more than I could alone.
In return I yearn for relishing another's achievement.

I yearn for a warm body to hold, not because it's cold, but because warmth gives life.
In return I yearn for giving safety through my warmth.

I yearn for caressing a sleeping tuft of hair, to indulge in its scent.
In return I yearn for being an object of affection.

I yearn to whisper a proposition.
In return I yearn for tacitly accepting one whispered to me.

I yearn to wake up to a smile, to smile in return, to know that that's exactly how things are supposed to be.

Most importantly, I yearn to be sure that yearning is not all there is to it.