Kisses. I want tons of them, millions, even. I want them placed on every inch of my body until the feeling seeps into my bones. I want the warmth of your skin upon the coldness of mine as we lay together at night. Sometimes I want a fire, but only if you’d let me roast some marshmallows alongside it. I want to spend days and nights with you for all of eternity; I want to know everything there is to know about you and I want you to figure out all of the mysteries within myself. I want to eat all the bad foods and not regret a single pound I gain. I want you to shave your head with me as I shave mine if cancer ever tries to consume me again. I want you to be there to catch me when I fall and also during those silly moments where I trip over myself. I want to watch every genre of movies with you until the sun rises. I want you to let me grab onto you when I am frightened and I want you to hold me whenever I am feeling sad.

All of these wants, none of them needs, yet somehow I want them so much it feels like a need.