Hurricanes in my spine

You were not careless enough for me.
Even in your love.
You loved gently. Softly.
I wanted something more careless.
Carefree if you will. Reckless.
I wanted your elbows. Your bruised knees. Your scarred back.
But you were fingers and palms. You were stroking.
You were wind brushing softly against my hair.
I wanted hurricanes in my spine.
I wanted volcanoes in my eyes.
You were a gentle spring in my veins.
But I wanted wars.

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