Maybe I Want a White Man

Not for the passport

Not for the visa

Not to escape Nigeria

or to pronounce “croissant” like a native

But because I want to be held

like I’m art

not property

To be told I’m beautiful

in the morning

before I’ve earned it with breakfast

Maybe a Lebanese man

the charm, the accent

the way he says "habibi" like it’s both a prayer and a promise

He’ll take me dancing

feed me grapes

tell his mother I’m the one

without needing me to cook to prove it

Or a Turkish man

all soft eyes and deep loyalty

who makes tea like ritual

and loves like it’s ancient

He’ll argue in Turkish and apologize in gifts

Yes please

Or a German man

who plans dates three weeks in advance

texts back in full sentences

says what he means

without the mystery

the “wyd” at midnight

the mind games masked as masculinity

Maybe even an Englishman

emotionally awkward

but at least he’ll say “sorry”

when he’s wrong

Not pretend I imagined the hurt

He’ll take me to bookstores

kiss my forehead at train stations

and call me “love”

without raising his voice

Because Black men

or the ones around me

often carry their ego like inheritance

Love like it’s war

Speak tenderness only through hunger

or hierarchy

And I’m tired

Tired of being the one

to pour and serve

and heal and hush

Of being told I’m too loud

too bold

too woman

White men

in my fantasies

in my daydreams

ask questions

and wait for answers

They don’t think submission

is the same thing as respect

So maybe

just maybe

I want a white man

Not for the green card

But for the green light

to be loved right.