down in me

I don’t want her. I don’t want a girl that doesn’t flow. I don’t want a girl that doesn’t glide weightlessly towards me with a thin smile. I want a girl like gauze. I want a girl that exists in streams, that tears into long strips, that can easily float onto a breeze. I want a girl that rustles soft like paper, a girl that doesn’t spit, that isn’t big, that doesn’t open wide, that doesn’t lie back. I want a girl that’s tightly wrapped and lean. A girl narrow like string, sparse like vellum. I want to feel her perpendicular, outstretched, reaching from her slight core far outwards, miles and miles of her, reams of her, taut and fine.