Open hand, open fingers

You hold out your hand

And open your fingers

In the moment that I begin

To pour myself into it.

Love does not hold on.

Love does not hold.

You, with your many faces

Teach me something else.

Something that is Love

In her most ferocious form.

In her fire breathing

Shit shovelling

Heart hammering


I would like the comfy one.

I would like the somnambulent solidity.

And I would loathe myself.

Lose myself.

Because I am not that.

And so I am this.


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