coming home…

As it is and always will be…

My heart coming home.

Anam Cara.

I am always awed, touched, humbled by the depth and intensity of our hearts together.

We hugged and cried and laughed and kissed and reminisced and talked and promised and bathed and ate and drank and loved and slept in our very own private, blissful bubble the entire weekend.

For the first time in a month since quitting smoking, I slept. Peaceably. All night.  It’s how I always sleep with him. Safe. Cocooned. Tucked away where nothing can hurt me. Where nothing else exists for me, but he and I.

Love you madly. Don’t let me go. Keep me safe.

Time and time again. For all time.

I am Grateful.

I am Love.

I am Loved.

I have no claim calling him boyfriend, or lover, or beloved.

I have no “right”…

Don’t you see?   I’ve never wanted to claim him, own him, possess him

Whispered on the wind,  Beloved.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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About Rosa

I run with knives
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