i can't, am not... in a place to write poetry or prose. maybe for the first time ever... for many reasons.
particularly because for the first time in my life i am content ... inside and out, floundering and drowning into myself... into someone…. worth my reciprocity.
its as if my words are lost because i am found within him. and i like the thought of that.
and for as much as i have a tendency to complicate love, or the things around me.. when i see him, embrace and consume him, it all fades.. and all that is left is us.....
though the notion of falling into the middle scares me, i like that i will have to search for a new language, a new book to convey my place within the world.... that i have to draw inspiration from a real sense of love and happiness.
though sadness is an inherent part of my condition, for the first time in my life i don't miss it. i don't long for sadness or melancholy. i love where my heart goes and where his love puts me. and as i slowly unfold unto him, i will know that my journey and his accompaniment in that journey was worth the sacrifice.
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