Friday, April 2, 2010

More stream of consciousness than anything.

Inside the foresty of our blankets lives a love only you have ever known, though I've shared myself with others.
The love you see is fully me, not a representation of some fantasy that I expect you to carry,
Not a caricature of who I am,
No dancing smoke between my eyes and yours.
In you, I trust completely, and you receive me
Lovingly,
The way a hand might accept a yolk;
Carefully and gently but strong and sturdy.

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