An object of desire

We wanna be loved. We don’t wanna just be desired.
Don’t get me wrong, being desired is a wonderful feeling. It feels great.
That attention, that sexuality makes us feel powerful.
But it doesn’t last long, you know?
Soon it ends and we’re just left feeling emptier afterwards.
Cause we wanna be loved.
We don’t just wanna be desired.

We’re all hungry for attention and so we let that desire drive us crazy.
We let it define that little bit of happiness.
We don’t stop it cause it’s happening and in that moment, it’s all we want.
That treacherous wanting, the maddening, frantic kind of desire that takes over our entire being.
A moment where there is no shyness, only vulnerability.
But it ends soon cause it’s desire.
And that’s not what we want.
We wanna be loved.
We don’t wanna just be desired.

Passion.
Yes I see a lot of passion.
It’s exciting. It’s aggressive. It’s comforting.
It has a newness factor attached to it
But desire is not love.
Lust is not love.
Hell, in many cases even passion is not love.

Desire has to end. That’s why it’s exciting.
It’s all about being in the moment.
But it can never be close to that feeling we crave for.
The feeling of being loved.
Cause that’s what we want.
We wanna be loved.
We don’t wanna just be desired.