i'm so torn and stretched along the edges, yet i love how wicked and real the discomfort is. it's coming out of my belly like a beast, all the mistrust and fear, judgment, old wounds. i feel like being intimate with myself so that i can see what i am., yet my intimacy is so sexual by nature, and unwound. i'm so swollen with relief that it's all over, and it never really began.
so i keep thinking, maybe we stay away from love because the fear of losing it is so unbearable, so we cling to that which radiates like jewels, sinking in the sea of tension and relief.