Romance & To Be Loved by Me

Maria Andino is a first-time poet dabbling in the delicious chaos of desire. Writing as a hobby, she pens verses that ache, tease, and linger—sometimes messy, always unflinching. Open to feedback, she’s learning to let her words burn as brightly as her cravings.

Romance  

I like the scent of it— 

the hidden laughter, 

nervous smiles, and soft caresses. 

Oh, how I can sniff it out like a bloodhound: iron and roses in the air, 

calluses on fingertips and toes, 

rough around the edges 

and soft in between. 

The way skin should move. 

The allure of the honey pot’s suckle. 

But oh—don’t let it rot your teeth or strain your throat. 

Don’t let the skin bruise and scab. 

The corpse will rot, 

and the smell will seep through.

To be loved by me 

Sometimes I wonder 

what it would feel like 

to be loved 

the way I love. 

So much it aches. 

So much it shatters bones in seconds. 

A love so blinding 

the sun could never rival their smile. 

I want someone to love me 

so much it hurts— 

to try to fit me into places 

I could never truly fulfill. 

To be heavy in someone’s heart, to let them grow nauseous 

at the thought of me. 

Sweet like honey, 

with brittle teeth. 

Shaky hands 

and cramped necks, 

bending toward every looking glass just to catch a glimpse. 

I want someone to beg 

for my scent, 

my smile, 

my touch. 

Let the ground beneath me 

be worshiped. 

Oh God— 

I want to be wanted. 

I want someone to crave me. 

The way a fire consumes a home  

I want someone to ruin themselves  loving me.