Shaking—
not like leaves in the wind,
but like glass in an earthquake.
Shards.
Artifacts.
Scars.
Moments frozen in amber,
each aching, each pulsing,
each with its own heartbeat—
remembering its dance.
We choose not to move on.
We carry them—
into every new world.
I should stop.
Yes. Stop. Stop, please.
This pain—
it’s voluntary.
Yes.
Yes, it is.
Needles in old wounds,
driven deeper by time.
The endless march into the waves of
a cosmic ocean sucking me under so I can
feel the burning of full lungs–
And yet—
I want it.
For once in my life,
I want to feel it all.
– Gasp –
In spite of the aching:
envy.
lust.
love.
I find myself thrown
into a dance—
a barren minefield:
intimate.
Close.
Free.
My partner whispers
as I move through memory—
I read your old textbooks.
I run my fingers over your schoolwork.
And I live in the impression of your words.
I smell your coats.
I try on your army jackets.
And I am lost in the ghost of your embrace.
I hold your license plates.
I slip my feet into the shoes you left behind.
And I believe I can follow everywhere you've been.
I brush the curve of your ukulele,
run my fingers across its strings—
and the echo of your laugh electrifies me.
I touch the edges of your life—
worn, familiar, sacred.
I pick up those ridiculous sunglasses—
the ones you wore to parties
because they made you feel hot—
and I almost laugh.
Almost.
Slow down.
Patience.
This is a slow dance.
Each piece is precious.
Each memory—
yours,
and yours alone.
Holy.
Powerful.
Simple.
With open hands,
He holds them all—
and shows me how to do the same.
My heart stops.
The ache presses outward.
It throbs.
It pulses.
I. Am. Human.
Deeply conflicted,
yet deeply connected.
I see the hidden life,
the scene behind the scene.

He holds me close.
We sway, stepping over
mine after mine.

I hold you close when you’re not here,
But I’m left with
histories of your heart,
pieces of your presence.

I am breathless.

Have I fallen for you?
Maybe.

We move.
We sway.
We stop.
We take.
I take.
You.

The way my breath
finds rhythm in yours.
The way the world
is only the heat between us.

The grasping.
The digging.
The scraping.

The wetness.
The sloppiness.
The growling.

The pressure.
The rawness.
The stickiness.

Skin pressing into skin
until it is all skin.

Heart compelling heart
until there is only
thump, thump, thump, thump.

I can’t open my eyes.
I want
to crawl inside you—
to be near your heart,
to be safe.

But no.

I want you inside me,
so you can never,
ever,
leave.

So I stretch.
I make room.
I open.
I inhale.

I move in—
soft as silk,
desperate as famine.

If I hold you close enough,
you’ll disappear inside me.
And then I’ll never be alone.

I don’t notice
when your breath catches.
When your body stills.

But the silence—
louder than sex—
strikes.
Slaps.
Stings.
Snap.

My eyes are open now.

And your eyes—
wide with...
not wonder.

Terror.

Thump, thump—

Silence.

Louder than sex.

And I realize—
I don’t care.

Cold.
Numb.
Capable.

I watch myself—
unwavering.

And in an instant—
you become real.
And I am…
something else.


I. Am.


PANIC.


Wait.


I am fully myself in this moment.
I have denied this pain over and over again.
But He teaches me this dance -
He made it slow, he made it deep, he made it penetrating.
Suddenly.
Eyes. Wide. Open.
I. Am. Me.


To be a lion. To be a friend.
To choose and be chosen,
To know and be known
To fight and risk everything,
To strip off armor for another
To refuse the crown for love
To kiss and weep in secret,
To mourn and dance in the open,
To receive without need,
To give beyond reason,
To live as He loves,
To move as He moves.


Depth.
Awe.
Passion.
Relief.


Hold, push, heal.
Rest.

In joy.
In sorrow.
The aching hasn’t. stopped. Once.


Tears.
Emptiness.
Screams.
Gratefulness.

How I wish I were more than I am!
How I wish I believed I could be enough!
How I wish I could fight just one more time,
Hold the hearts of others as mine falls apart!

I choose to be
Undivided
And open.
To be poured out,
like wine spilled gladly.
My partner kisses my head,
as He has with us all.
An invitation.
To watch you become
who you were meant to be—
And to find my freedom there
Too.
Stunned.
Without form,
Words:
I take you as you are.
I give you a new name.

My story is mine, and mine alone.
Holy.
Powerful.
Simple.


Holding each piece with open hands–
Darkness
Light
Tension--

He loves it all
deeply,
relentlessly,
with wonder.


Incredible!
Disgusting!
Unimaginable!
True.


I am learning
The courage to do this dance.
The ownership of the moment.
The technique.
The style.
The nuances.
The deference.
Acceptance.


My story.

Not my lot.

My privilege.