I find myself falling into the arms of those that don’t know how to touch a woman, both physically and metaphorically.

It’s quite frustrating.

It’s frustrating to come across illiterate men, who no longer know how to read poetry off a woman’s skin. Rather instead, focus on ripping clothes off her.

Perhaps this is me hungering for the unattainable once again..

Obsession. Possession. Ownership. Protection.

Such a toxic and addictive delicacy, I call love.

It’s what I do. I yearn for the sort of things in life people no longer give..

Like flowers picked up on a random Tuesday, and not just any flowers, no. I like peonies. They usually bloom around my birthday and they’re a small reminder that beauty surrounds me.

Hand written letters, although old fashioned, I’ve always been fascinated with the English language and the way words can carry such depth and meaning and can convey things such as love, regret and pain. Like did you know that words can be forgotten? Someday, words like compunctious or irregardless may eventually fade away. We’ll stop using them and such words that were once use to express ourselves will be forgotten.. Perhaps, it’s why I often find myself wanting hand written letters..

Because although words can be forgotten, words on paper are forever.

Someone showing up outside of my window with a boombox, burning a CD or recording a cassette with songs dedicated to me, going out dancing, basket picnics, getting me something because it reminded them of me, making love in the kitchen as Kenny G plays and our food burns haha..

What can I say, I’m a hopeless romantic.

I always find something to love in people. I wonder if they too, find something to love in me..

I wonder if what they see in me is enough for someone to provide their guidance and affection..

Strength and masculinity.

I’m not starved of love. In fact, I’m quite loved.

But we do lack passion nowadays. Intensity. Devotion. Excitement. Adventure. Adoration. Intimacy. Depth.

I’m not entirely sure where I’m going with this. I often ramble and my words get lost in the same wind that often tends to knock on the window of those that like me, get cold. I suppose it explains why we seek warmth in one another..

Sighs

I guess I’m looking for a path to free my deepest self, demons included.

A path with unlimited possibilities.

A father figure who can listen and take care of me..

After all, gaps just feel right, don't they? They add something unspeakable and non-tangible to a relationship.

Can you feel my genuine respect and adoration for someone your own age? This is me calling out for someone older than me..

There is a respect for my elder and there is a respect for my superior.

I need your guiding hand as much as you need a good girl to educate and train.

Can you feel the undescribable rush of prey offering itself up to a predator?

I know that with your size you could overpower me and have me , so I open myself to you and offer surrender in exchange for protection.

You see, I’m both sides of the coin.

Somewhere deep beneath my sweet and loving demeanor hides a depravity not everyone understands..

I hunger for darkness..

To be captured in the palm of someone’s hands and be picked apart piece by piece.

Fully disassembled, only to be slowly built back up, inserting each custom pieces where you see fit.

My spirit will initially resist the foreign pieces inserted into me and I'll relish at the thought of having my resistance broken again and again until you have built me into the perfect image of your desires.

Take a closer look at my posts, it’s clearly what I want.

To be broken into my most foundational pieces by a man with such intimate knowledge of my every little interest and flaw.

Only to then be built up once more by his hands, better than I was before.

Better than I could ever be on my own.

And built to his specifications.

Can’t you see?

Though there will be a lot of resistance at first, I am confident that in no time, you will have me dancing to the tune of your pleasure.

My life better in every way imaginable than what I ever imagined it could be before I you. At the end, as I introspect and look back at my journey in the palm of your hand, a small piece of the old me, a piece that I missed or perhaps left in there on purpose, will scream out in fear begging me to flee. To come back to my old life. And for a moment I will tease the thought, but then I will realize how disgusted I am at the implications of the thought.

I’ll love my new life as your little puppet.

Ideally, you’d treat me better than I thought I ever deserved, in every depraved and despicable manner there is. And because of this, I’ll turn into a rage at the thought of going back and rip that last old piece of myself and crush under my own hands.

I’ll gently blow the crumbled dust into the wind and in its place a new piece forms.

A piece that symbolizes my new life.

A life I love.

A life I never want to leave and I can see it matches perfectly into the now vacant spot.

I’ll slot it in and now feel whole. More complete than I've ever felt before and will ever feel again.

My journey will then be complete.

So I’m here, speaking into your ears, baiting you to come out of hiding.

A man with instincts of a twisted protector of some sorts.

This is me calling out for you once again.

Calling out for a man with such a desire to consume, invade, and corrupt someone who can potentially be his daughter.

A father figure who can listen and take care of me..

Someone, who has a curiosity and interest in the emotional and psychological aspects of dominance, that they seek to dissect a naive little girl like me..

It’s no secret, that I’ve got daddy issues. I look for my father in every man I meet.. perhaps, in you too..

I might get attached. Or I might isolate at times due to my troubles. But a father is always there for his little girl right?

So if you don’t mind me being a little broken, and you’re over the age of 30 (regardless of your status) let’s talk. I’m looking for a foster ‘caregiver’, therapist and friend..

I’m lost in the storm of life, maybe you can be the lighthouse that calls me home and keeps me warm?