As of today have managed to stay alive for 26 years.
I’m a little proud of that accomplishment.
About healing, and asking for space.
My love, you are larger than this.
How many years have you spent trying to fit into a life not meant for you?
How many window sills have you perched on,
staring patiently through a glass that would never crack?
How many armchairs have you slept in
because no one cared enough to give you a place in their bed?
And how many times have you tried to transform yourself into vapor,
so you could linger in the air, invisible?
You with your sharp eyes, your soft step,
your loud hair, your slow grin-
You with your dancing legs, your nimble fingers,
your S curves, your bright skin-
You with your bruised lips, your fluttering pulse,
your open palms, your rushing breath-
You, with your screaming heart:
You are larger than imagining.
You are larger than this.
Forget the ones who went blind in the fire of you.
Forget the ones who never had a spare pillow,
a glass of water, or the stillness for you.
Forget the ones whose love dried up at dawn, and
forget the ones who ignored the doorbell,
too far buried under their own clutter to hear it ring.
Forget the ones who cut you open with the sharp edge of their indifference.
You never owed them your attention, anyway.
Pick up the treasures you let fall,
and have patience while the pieces try to remember where they fit.
Walk boldly through the world without letting your stride make
even one apology.
Keep your eyes wide open,
because when he arrives,
it will be as sudden as a thunderstorm in summer.
His current will shoot straight through you,
sparking you from the inside out with urgent illumination.
He will be the wish you’ve made on every penny,
on every fallen eyelash, at 11:11 every night.
He will see you, and always after his every gesture will shout your name.
You will dance together until you’ve burned up all your oxygen,
and when your dizzy feet trip across his threshold,
he will turn on the light for you,
and his open room,
his smooth sheets, his singing body,
his trembling voice, his wide embrace
his deep wanting
will reach for you,
and they will tell you with certainty in every different language,
'Come in. Come here. Stay.'
-I wrote this, june 2014