Dear Me

Dear Me,

Today has been an emotional day. I guess you could say it is one of those pivotal moments in life where everything you knew or thought you knew gets turned inside out. I’ve been writing about my twinflame journey for months now. In that time very little had changed for me in the 3D. I had focused most of my efforts in the 5D. My dreams have been simply out of this world. Then suddenly there was a change. The man I believed to be my twin (will call him A to avoid confusion) popped up in my Telegram contact list (before you get too excited about it we have not exchanged a single word). I took it to mean something. I wanted it to mean something. Finally there was an open door between us. I did not jump at the opportunity. I waited. I gave him space. I followed the advice of the “experts” if there even is such a thing as an expert on the subject. A is still in my contacts on Telegram (atm) but something did change in the 3D. I am not ready to open up about it just yet but it has brought something to my attention, a possibility I just had not been prepared to face. A is not my twinflame. A is simply a man. A man I do not know. A man who is not interested in me and that should have been very clear to me and might have been had I been a little more experienced, a little more rational, a little less smitten. I am not angry with A. It wasn’t his fault I got my signals crossed. He did not lead me on. He did not “seduce” me. He did not lie to me. I do feel regretful for how I behaved. It was an honest mistake but it still probably did result in some discomfort and inconvenience for him which I am pretty broken up about at the moment. There is not really anything I can do about that. I can’t really apologize because that would draw it out and add to the discomfort/weirdness that already exists. I want to make it clear I have not been sending him messages or anything. Nothing like that for nearly a year. So it was nothing overt like that, it was only an accident. A stupid, grade-school girl level accident after nearly a year of complete silence. At this point all I can do is let go of the image I had of DM. I have to release A so I can discover the truth, however, painful that truth might be.

Right now that is mainly where I am grieving the loss of that clarity, of that person to which I had ascribed so much meaning and potential. Who is full of meaning and potentional certainly but whose life is and ever will be seperate from my own. I really had very little that was clear to me and now, at least, concerning this journey everything is hidden behind a very dense veil.

I might be my own twinflame. This whole journey might just be my subconscious’ ingenious way of healing trauma. I can’t say why my mind decided to involve someone in that process, perhaps it was as simple as comfort. It can be quite painful to think of undertaking a difficult journey alone. It makes me think of that research experiment with the baby monkeys. In the experiment the babies who were given a terry cloth mother to cuddle did better than the babies who were given only food. In the end the experiment was really very cruel because the monkeys were forced to choose between their “surrogate mother” and food. They chose their “surrogate mother” and starved to death. Humans aren’t much different. We all want love and comfort. We are social creatures. So I can’t really even blame my brain for concocting this elaborate love story. It chose someone with whom I could not form an actual connection, someone with whom my illusion could be maintained for a longer period of time. I did manage to heal quite a lot in the process just the same. I also learned that I have a tremendous imagination. I have struggled even to hold an erotic image in my head for masturbation when I am awake so maybe this is a way a way of breaking down that blockage to allow me to create more freely and authentically even when I am awake and ego-bound. There are obviously still things I cannot explain. Signs I have received. This I can’t quite see as products of my overactive imagination since they occurred in the external world and were outside of myself. Then again I suppose there might be magic of a sort in this world. Magic because I wished for it and whatever the outcome for a while I did find it.

Of course there is a possibility I have a twinflame who is, for whatever reason, withholding their identity. Since their identity is unknown I gave them one or they gave me one simply to have a face and a name. I did not know about twinflames to start so it wasn’t something I was seeking out. It will be hard to let go of the notion since I am a hopeless romantic but I think I do need to broaden my horizons even more.

I have no idea why I reacted to A’s picture the way I did, in such an atypical and unpreceded way. It is possible to have feelings for someone that doesn’t like you back and not be mistaken. I suppose it was just that I felt something. I had feelings. Now though I need to let go of those feelings and I need to be open to receiving love. Reciprocal love. I am not ready to hit the dating sites yet I have to grieve first. Maybe my twinflame is out there somewhere with a face and name his/her own. Maybe my twinflame exists only in my dreams and if so I hope that they will tell me so.

If ever A (Axel Miraton) comes across this I am truly sorry for being such a pest. I sincerely hope you have a gorgeous life! Goodbye but not good riddance. Also thanks for the inspiration!

For now my only twinflame is myself. I am going to get to know me. To love me. To forgive me. Maybe someone will enter my life someday. I am open to that possibility. I will be eventually, at least. For now I am going to choose that which sustains me rather than the illusion of comfort.

25 Things I Haven’t Said To You (out loud)

  1. That I bought the sweater as a thank you.
  2. That I would gladly talk to you any day, every day, about anything at all.
  3. That I dream about you almost every night.
  4. That I sleep with the sweater every night.
  5. That the first time I saw you was in a vision I had when I was a teenager.
  6. That if you asked me on a date I would say yes.
  7. That I’ve written you dozens of poems and letters but I haven’t sent you a single one.
  8. That I’m obsessed with you because obsession has such a bad connotation and really all I mean is that my feelings are consistent and passionate.
  9. That I masturbate thinking of your mouth, your thighs, your hands.
  10. That I am single.
  11. That I’ve bought loads of tarot cards in an effort to understand this situation better and that I love them all.
  12. That I talk to you every night before bed telepathically.
  13. That I am writing an erotic novel. Because I want to. Because you inspire me. Because I have no idea what to do with all these passionate feelings.
  14. That I want to get to know you in an every day sort of way.
  15. That above everything else I want to be myself.
  16. That I am happiest when I am dreaming of you.
  17. That the first time I ever saw your picture I felt that you were important and I still feel that way. I want to say let’s create something together.
  18. That I am trying to be a happier person in general.
  19. That I’ve been studying French ever since we met.
  20. That I can only be me.
  21. That I love you.
  22. That I really do want you to have a gorgeous day, every day.
  23. That I was perhaps both too eager and too subtle in my initial approach.
  24. That I overcame a lifelong phobia of riding a bike because I hoped in overcoming my fears I could live my life more fully because meeting you inspired me to live more fully.
  25. That you have a beautiful soul. You feel beautiful and I would love to connect with you on so many levels.

The Aging Duckling

In college mid 20s probably. Most of my pictures involve me not looking at the camera.

This is me at 40 looking terrified of the camera. I am really scared of the camera okay.

Crisis, pretty much describes my mind state for the last few days/weeks. I guess you could say I am going through a dark night of the soul. Purging. Trauma. Ego Death. The delicate balance between collapse and surrender. At the moment the only way I know how to let go is to beat myself down until I am too exhausted to resist. I don’t know if I am a sadist or a masochist. Maybe I am both. So what, you may wander, is bothering me specifically?

Well to start with there’s childhood trauma. I am really tired of dealing with this particular trauma and I have sincerely tried to heal these issues and move forward with my life. Basically it is feelings of insecurity. I don’t feel safe. I am still clinging to the side of the pool for dear life, metaphorically. There is other things too: I am afraid to hurt the people I love and afraid that the love I have to offer is somehow tainted. I don’t feel worthy. I don’t feel pretty enough, young enough, successful enough, good enough, sane enough, reliable enough, interesting enough, talented enough. Enough period.

Speaking of young enough. I am having some type of midlife crisis. I have always struggled with changes to my physical appearance for better or worse. I think it is because of the disassociation. I don’t see a gradual progression of changes but sudden, inexplicable changes. Which might be the reason I don’t wear makeup. I need to see my real face, not another external face plastered on top of my own. My dad was a pedophile and misogynist. He was really cruel in his judgements of women. Adult women particularly. I admit I have read about dating when you are 40 and it is basically the same diatribe he fed to me as a kid. One article said women are past their prime at 18. Presumably the article was written by a prebuscent boy. I hope so anyways because if a grown up of either gender wrote that article it is heart-breaking, not for me but for them. Personally I think you can be beautiful at any age. At least, I have never really cared much about the age of other people. So why does my age matter so much to me? When I was in college I used to subscribe to the Oprah Magazine. Which was probably geared toward middle-aged women but I liked it. Anyhow it had a collection of beautiful women. Older women. Each woman had a small biography accompanying her portrait. These women were in there 70s and they had such a sense of self, such confidence. They were gorgeous. I had this weird idea that I was going to get older and develop some sort of peace with my appearance. That I would shed the crippling insecurities of my youth as I got to know myself better. This hasn’t happened yet. The parts of my body I am not insecure about: my thumbs, my vagina, my feet most of the time, my nose which my daughter gives me hell for several times a week. I think a crooked nose is sexy (my nose is crooked and angular from the side from the front it’s a different nose). Truthfully though I always feel both old and young at the same time. I am not as different from myself at 20 as I expected to be (I mean internally not externally, I am definitely different externally lol). I am still me you know?

There is of course the whole financial insecurity thing. Speaking of which I’ve got an apprenticeship in a second hand store. They will be accessing my ability to work. They have many different departments. I chose to work in books. I was assigned to textiles.

I am worried about my daughter whose having a tough time right now, a really tough time.

I am still trying to work out what unconditional love means. What are twinflames?

I want to be painted in the nude by an artist who appreciates my very human figure.

I know I want to love and be loved. I know I am one of those sappy, hopeless romantic sorts. I write poetry so I am really obsessed with words. Rather than grand romantic gestures I prefer humor and small, thoughtful, and yes sometimes idiotic gifts. I don’t want a diamond ring. I’d rather honestly have a bubblegum machine ring. I don’t know why. I think it’s sweeter or simpler or something. I want something playful and fun. They say you get pickier with age. Here’s my list.

I don’t care that much about looks this (includes weight), money, status, or age (to a point obviously I think preference wise I am 25 up to infinity)

A good sense of humor/playful/silly/sweet

Loves me for who I am

A good lister (because I talk a lot)

A willingness to communicate

Honesty/they are real with me

Passionate and yet somehow still chill (this is where I get picky. How can they be passionate, a wee bit obsessive, and have a voracious directed toward me sexual appetite and still be laidback???! How can they be all-consumed with me and not be jealous as hell? See I haven’t worked this bit out at all.)

They reciprocate my feelings and willing to learn about intimacy with me because I am still learning

Stuff like that. Basically I wanted reciprocated love. I am probably not a casual dater and to be fair this has nothing to do with age because I never was one. I am basically like a baby duckling I imprint and so I literally don’t know how to think of anyone but the person I like. Which probably makes me needy and clingy. I can own that. Maybe after I work out these insecurity issues I will be less duckling and more swan.

Basically my current mission is just to learn how to relax and to heal. Also I am tired of pursuing/chasing whatever. I am going to do my best to just be open. To go with the flow. Let the universe decide.

Stay

When our bodies

and borders

start to unfurl

like so many misshapen wings

Stay.

When the dawn

starts to break

and one by one

the last remnants of sleep

fall away

Stay.

When I shout

I love you

for no reason

other than the feeling itself

Stay.

When our bones

find each other on a path

not wholly of our choosing

Stay.

When I chase you

because my heart is too hot

and too heavy to grasp

Stay.

When I am watery

and too scarred/scared

to feel my feelings

Stay.

When the labels peel and chaff

and we forget ourselves

in the act of being together

Stay.

Too Much Space

Dawn breaks behind

my shuttered eyelids.

Face to face

in the dark

I have only

a sense of fire.

The widow’s light

blooming red and orange

beneath a veil of skin.

Will you love me

when my eyes are open,

when the bedroom

is only a room

four-corned and vacant?

Your lips bare down,

my mouth cracks open

with a sleepy grin.

I love the way

you say I love you

with your eyes liquid-soft

and your breath

inside of my mouth

like a kiss.

Sometimes my desire for you

exceeds my capacity for tenderness.

I want to ravage you,

to pull you to pieces

with my tongue and teeth.

I am five liters of blood

wrapped in velvet.

If I could

I would fold myself

around your body

and let you possess me

soul and all.

If we stretched

our skin and bones out

like a bridge

we still wouldn’t be touching.

Which is to say I miss you.

Which is to say there is

too much space between us.

It’s been a long time since I have written a poem!

Love Letter #35

Dear DM,

The last few days have been difficult. I’ve had trouble sleeping. I’m in pain. Emotionally. Physically. I’m feeling lost and alone. Turns out I am not that introverted. Probably I’m just shy and avoidant. In other words, I really like my fucking freedom. It’s one thing to hang out at home ‘cuz you feel like it but being stuck at home day after day due to extenuating circumstances will make you crazy. I could really use some social interaction. I don’t mean anything particular by this just that I would like to have a conversation. A day out of the house with people. Eye contact. The sound of a voice.

I went out for ice cream today. They actually had mint chocolate chip (the green kind which is best). It’s probably an American thing. Toothpaste-flavored ice cream. No idea why it’s so awesome. Yes I do. Cold on cold. I saw a couple on a date. I’m wondering if there is a platonic way to date when you’re a grownup? I love hanging out. I love inappropriate jokes. I love stupid shit like tag and play fighting. I haven’t really dated since I was a teenager. So I am probably stunted or something. To amuse myself I go on walks with headphones on and dance or pretend I’m on a runway. I live in a village of around a 1,000 so I am guessing there are, at least, a 1,000 people out there that think I’ve lost my fucking shit. Which I have. I’ve totally lost my shit.

I definently don’t want platonic with you though. If there was confusion.

I still haven’t worked out this whole concept of surrender. How do I get out of the way and just allow the universe to work its groovy voodoo? I’m really good at making things harder than they need to be. I just don’t get it. Can’t we just fuck up and see how it goes from there? I want you as is. Sometimes I wish you would say something. You know? I don’t know like give me a sign or something.

I don’t dislike myself in a general sense (though I’d be lying if I said I was always easy) but it’s been a very, very long time since anyone has expressed a romantic interest or physical attraction in me. I’m starting to develop a complex about it. I know that it doesn’t mean anything. I know my worth doesn’t come from other people’s opinions but it is just inconceivable to me at this point that someone could see me in this way. It’s been too long. I’ve forgotten how that feels. How it feels to be seduced. To be pursued. In dreams you do these things of course.

I am trying to figure out how to enjoy being awake and indoors mostly and for indefinite periods of time. Honestly, I seem to be allergic to absolutely everything in the outside world. Which reminds me I had the bright idea to use scented products in the wash so I could smell something other than my own skin and now my whole body itches like crazy and the washing machine broke shortly after so I can’t rewash my clothes. My body is short-circuiting from stress. I mean I am literally allergic to everything right now. Why?!

There was an advertisement in the Swedish newspaper about Yoni massage. Should I consider this for stress relief? I can orgasm by myself but there is so much tension in my body I feel like I am going to break in half. I really need some fun in my life. Some way to decompress.

With all my love your DF

Love Letter #34

Dear DM,

Prepare for a ramble. I’m buffering. These are just my thoughts. Formless. Naked. Free-styling.

I realized something today. I realized that whenever I’m feeling insecure or uncertain about the future I seek to define, micromanage, and fortify my own patterns and beliefs. I set my intentions from a place of fear, rather than a place of love. I tighten the stitches. I reinforce the walls. I settle and I cling to things I have outgrown. I beg for the minimum. I beg for bread crumbs. We teach others how to treat us. We set the precedent by the way we treat ourselves and many of us don’t treat ourselves all that well. So I have to treat myself better. I’ve got to feed my soul. I’ve got to get on really intimate terms with myself. I’ve got to choose me, to choose you.

How do you feel about me? How do you envision our 3D lives in the future? Become accusations in moments like these rather than an exploration of love/limitless potential. Rather than explore our lives with gratitude and joy we look for the cracks, the would-be betrayals and betrayers, the exits unmarked and otherwise. Just encase. We survive on desperation, on a habitual need to be placated and anesthetized. Some questions have no right answer. Do you think I look fat? Is one of those questions because nothing anyone can say can clarify the distortion of one’s own negative self-perception. So here we are again. Perspective. That’s what reality is all about perspective. So why choose the version of reality that hurts the most? Why reinforce the pain? If we have a choice and we do have a choice. Isn’t it strange that we choose moments when we are feeling unstable and anxious to think about and plan for the future? It’s like trying to have a heart-felt conversation when you are pissed off.

Being human is an experience. Fleeting. Beautiful. Excruciating. Baffling. We don’t mistake an outfit for the person underneath it, even if that outfit is an expression of the person’s identity/mood/role in a given moment in time. We are a spiritual being having a human experience. I think more often than not we build our whole lives on illusion, to suit the fickle and temporary demands of the lizard brain. We forget that we are infinite. That we are creators in our own right. We take dreams for granted.

Basically I have been thinking about reality again. About why we choose define ourselves by fear instead of love. I think about all the times I’ve said I am lonely. I need to find someone. I need to do something. I need to go out and become someone. If you are me then it makes sense that I ought to be able to be in a room with myself and my feelings and the silence without self-destructing. If I can’t be present with myself then how will I be present with another person, with their feelings, with their silence, with the unknowns that exist in every situation and relationship?

I have this habit of giving advice whenever I talk to someone because listening to other people talk scares the shit out me. The story of how lives fall apart and reassemble. The not knowing. The sense of powerlessness when you watch someone you care about self-destruct/self-deprecate/abandon hope. The sense that I am not smart enough to have an adult conversation in the first place. The need to prove and justify myself and assert my own beliefs whatever the conversation. We fill in spaces, instead of letting ourselves breathe. We push the miracles underground. It takes space to manifest. Most of what we are is space, space isn’t lonely at all, walls are lonely. The unknown constitutes so much of our lives, it is where the magic happens, it’s the womb and it’s the source of all creation.

I love you. Like I really, really love you. So I open myself up a little more each day. So I move towards you and our future, effortlessly because that is where my energy is pulling me. I want to spend my life getting to know you. Not just in this lifetime and not just the gorgeous human you’ve incarnated as but the soul underneath. I would let myself go crazy in a room with you. You could go crazy too. We could do it together. Over and over. I have already chosen you. Let’s explore life together. And also thank you. Thank you because I know that you are with me, there for me, doing the work, and willing to take the time to create something truly special with me, something soul-deep. You inspire me. And if you need a sign this is it. I know who you are AM. I know because we are soul-deep. I trust that we will come together in every way. I trust you. And also if you want to do a video chat let me know (dream reference) because the answer is yes.

With all that I am your DF

Love Letter #33

Dear DM,

I miss you. More specifically the things we haven’t done or said yet (in this lifetime). I miss you because I haven’t had the chance to really tell you how I feel. I miss you because there are so many ways that I want to know you, so many parts of you that I haven’t met yet. I miss you because my own heart is so thick with scars that sometimes I can’t even pry it open. Though I try I can’t seem to totally escape the fear that you don’t know or feel all the things that I know and feel. And I am frustrated because I’d rather get hurt having told you all of these things/having felt all of these things then to get hurt by omission. I miss the mistakes we haven’t made yet. The imperfections of us, individually and as a collective. I want to be occupied by you in every way, all of the time.

I have had this line from my book on my mind ”He made me feel like being myself was the best thing that could have ever happened to me.” This is to say I love you because of who I am and that’s a privilege. Loving you. Being able to recognize in another person all of these beautiful and amazing feelings and I just want to tell you thank you. Thank you for being who you are. Like I literally want to tell you. Out loud.

I am trying to be patient, to just savor the feelings and the moments when my heart isn’t too redundant with pain to feel them. Do you think it is harder to give or receive a confession? I think it must be harder to hear one. I think of all the times I have broken down in tears when someone asked me ”Are you feeling alright?”. When we have sex in dreams I like to be in charge. Receiving is an art. It takes finesse and patience. I think I might be too selfish to receive, to allow. I really want to be vulnerable with you, to lose control, to strip myself bare.

In the last few weeks I have read three books out loud to you. We are on our fourth book. If I don’t keep talking I might just say ”I love you.” or ”Thank you.” simply because the spirit moves me. Only you’ve blocked me and I think I probably shouldn’t say it just yet. And for everyone wondering why I was blocked in the first place I am not really the person to ask. I guess eagerness makes a sound a lot like talking. I guess maybe I tried too hard. I wish sometimes I had tried a little differently, a little more honestly. A little more or a little less. But I don’t know and anyhow it’s been a while since it happened. When I write about it, it just makes me sound like a crazy person. I feel pretty sure though that I didn’t actually do anything particularly crazy and maybe I should have. Maybe that’s the point. Maybe I wasn’t real enough. The last thing you ever sent me was a like, small and heart-shaped so the last thing you said wasn’t even nasty or offensive and so I can’t even be mad at you. I am not mad at you and I don’t even know if I should be mad at myself. I just wish I was more confident.

Sometimes I find myself wishing that I could find you in another person but no one will ever compare to you and also I don’t want anyone else. I feel guilty for even thinking about it but sometimes I get lonely and I want to be held when my eyes are open and I’m awake. Also I feel crazy again but I guess it is okay to be crazy since it comes with being human.

I’ve asked you to send me a shirt you have worn in the mail. Really worn, like for days. Obviously I haven’t asked you “irl” and obviously what I really want is you. To have you naked in my arms, to smell you. I should tell you this now but I smell everything constantly. I live through scent and taste because they are by far my strongest senses. I am not sure what animal that makes me.

I want to hear your voice and I could beg you to post something telepathically and see what happens but we both know what I really want is to have a conversation with you out loud. I am always thinking of ways I can settle. As if I could get a hit, a fix of you I might survive another few days, weeks, months, or even years of missing you but really what I want is you, all of you, the whole person, flaws and all. So I will try to ask for what I really want and then be open to whatever happens.

The universe has a funny way of answering our prayers. Today a jewelry store Dm’d me to tell me I am beautiful and asked me to promote their products on my very modest Instagram account. Jewelry which they will send me for free apparently, except of course the first time. The first time I have to pay shipping. They messaged me yesterday as well to say how lovely I am. Now I know it is a scam but I think maybe someone, somewhere does think I am lovely and maybe somehow this is really a message from you.

I have been studying French for almost a year, well maybe even a year. I don’t speak French. At least, what comes out of my mouth when I am playing along with Duolingo isn’t noticeably French. I think of all the languages I have not learned and how maybe some Americans are born with a speech impediment that makes it impossible to speak other languages. If I said Je t’aime would you understand me and would it be beautiful because it is supposed to be beautiful.

I should compile a whole list of all the things I want to do to you and have done to myself by you but deep down we both know that I would be happy just being with you. I don’t ask for too much. I just want everything. Everything with you. Everything in the open and out loud.

I found this on your abandoned FB page and I know it’s from before, before so it’s not to me but now, now it is to you.

With all that I am your DF

Nightmares and Past Lives

Dear Dm,

For the last few days I have been filled with stories of us. Stories of the lives we have shared and stories of my own design. Last night was a tragedy. As with all dreams it began in the middle and branched out from there. It was the story of a mentally ill woman who attempted suicide after a breakup (a breakup that began with a kiss on the lips and a warm hug). I was that young woman. Difficult. Tortured. Manipulative. Naive. Selfish. You were the young man. I wish that she/I had stood there and listened to all that you would say. You said to the best of my recollection. “I’m not sure if my life is better now. I think I liked my life better before.” She/I did not listen. She/I stormed off while shouting something spiteful like “fine return to your old life then and forget about me.” She found a pair of scissors in an empty library. She fled down a staircase past children selling drugs. She pushed open countless doors. Doors without knobs. Doors with no rooms between them. Doors with only darkness. She found a space deep within her labyrinth of doors and slit her wrists vertically.

“How did you find me?” She asked feeling herself lifted. “I always know where you are.”

The next she woke in a hospital bed. You stood at the far end of the room or rather she sensed you. Your voice was soft. I don’t remember your words. In the final scene she sits in front of a dirty vanity mirror. She’s outside and the country landscape is exquisite. There is a nurse beside her instructing her to clean the glass. She scrubs and scrubs but cannot find any reflections in the mirror. The nurse admonishes her to use gloves when cleaning, otherwise she will never get the mirror clean. She passes out and into your arms.

I woke from this dream very upset. When I think of it now perhaps she was in a mental asylum all along. The children selling drugs might have only been patients lining up for their medication. The gloves might have represented the need to set boundaries. The endless row of doors might have been the doors of her own mind, of every futile effort to save herself without relying on anyone else. I do not know if you were a visitor, a caretaker, or a figment of her imagination. I do not know if she only imagined you in the faces of others because deep down she longed for you to return and save her. I do not know if she imagined the whole relationship. I do not know what happened because I was in the mind of a troubled young woman and I couldn’t see beyond it. Perhaps you did find her and save her and then moved on because she wouldn’t or couldn’t follow you back to the world. Maybe you were there beside her every moment.

I decided to finish the story, to fill it out, to rewrite the tragedy. In my dream you end the relationship because your friends and family don’t approve and she doesn’t fit into society much less into your life. You want to be happy and she is messy and complicated. In my version you visit everyday. You brush her hair because she likes it and it gives you something to do in that, sometimes, too quiet room. You kiss her brow, her hair, her hands. When she is happy and coherent you kiss her mouth. You hold her while she sobs and she clings to your clothes gently. At first she is silent, withdrawn but by degrees she begins to talk and to listen. The days pass and she gets stronger and then one day she turns to you and says “I’m glad we are friends.” She still does not know that you love her and in what way you love her and her obliviousness hurts. Then again it is possible that you have never told her what was in your heart. So you show her and notice that she reciprocates even without knowing all that is in your heart and bit by bit you start to speak more freely with her. You speak and she listens. Then when she is stable you convince her parents to release her to your custody. You marry her. She is a terrible cook and she isn’t much of a housekeeper but you love each other. You meet each other half-way. Somewhere between insanity and sensibility. You gain wings and she in turn gains roots. You realize that you are both human, both innocent and you forgive. You forgive so that can live and love more deeply.

Perhaps another day I will tell you a different story, one that hurts less in the middle.

I love you. I will learn to listen. I will ask for help. I will offer a hand. I’ll live as fully as I possibly can whatever happens. And I will forgive. You. Me. The Situation.

Exchange

We stand on the precipice of spring,

soluble with thirst and eager to be alive.

Let me carry the weight of your bones

in the crucible of my heart for a while.

I know that words rarely come

when they are needed.

We can be together in the silence,

in the sleeping hours,

in the beautiful void that is hunger.

Say that we are interchangeable

because I want to exchange myself for you.

You gather the hem

of my little black dress

in your hands,

like a love letter

and tear upward.

I have broken my heart

more times than I can count

thinking about you

and if I have the power to hurt you

does is mean that I don’t deserve you?

Teach me how to accept love

when it comes

because I don’t remember

what it means to be

comfortable in my skin.

With you I think I could live in me

if only to give you a place

to escape your loneliness.

I could be a beautiful home,

a mountain of treasure,

an open sky with a melody that carries.

Between my cherry red lips

you are tying knots

in my tongue.

If I could speak

then I would give you

all of me, every breath,

every shakey syllable.

I don’t think love is even

half of what it could be.

We could make it mean

so much more.

I don’t know if we love each other

in the same way

I don’t know it we ever could.

I promise not to die for you.

I promise to wake up a little more each day.

I promise to give you each and every

heart that has ever grown in me and those yet to come.

I promise to go deeper with every breath.

I promise to laugh until I lose my voice

and to cry until the stars have fashioned

constellations of my load-bearing sorrows.

I will be human, through migration and heartbreak.

I will be human. Raw. Bloody. Imperfect.

I will love you the way that god is said to love

but unlike god I have everything and nothing at all to lose.