Slow Rot Holy Heat

Silly me, Confusing what was specific for what is singular.

Maybe love is unfurling above us like an enormous branch that bends and touches all the most sensitive, reticent parts of us.

Are we still real in this version of you?

You centered yourself and I opened.

I am no longer inside the proving.

anchored, i drag and scar the floor i pull, the weight, to meet demands how often do i feel alone?

Unfortunately, emotional systems take longer to change than cognitive ones.

There is almost nothing I could not bear if it were seen clearly and named by the one who knows me.

the quickening again — that breath at the door, soft as fur, the dark calling itself night. something catches at my ankles, a stumble, a reach forward, now caught in the brambles— fruit beckoning, sticky, the nectar still sweet as the thorns take it's due.

And when I looked up from the task at hand — the busy work of making meaning — I found myself alone and stranded in the midst of our love.