The ones full of love

I want the ones who love me out loud at midnight,
who love me on their knees like a prayer. I want
the ones who love me with open hands, who love me
asleep on the couch, who love me in a cold room
and dress me in their coats while I dream. I have been loved
by the ones who leave in the morning,

but I want to be loved by the ones who let themselves in
at noon, climb into the sheets and curl their bodies
around my heavy limbs. I want the ones who press
their palms against my stomach. I want to be loved
by the ones who want to be loved by me, who
dream of being loved by the ones like me,
coats on and windows open at night,
hands open and palms waiting for someone to touch.