Feel me.

There are days when the sadness and old pains start to wiggle around and grab hold of the parts of you where they like to get stuck inside. Our job is to feel them, love them the fuck up and let them move.

And we choose.

I choose to be the eyes of sensual living; look into them and feel me. Feel me. As I am feeling the sadness wiggle around replaced by my smile.

And we choose.

I choose to stand fully naked, body opening, my skin mine again.

And we choose.

I choose a shower so hot my sweat runs with steam.

And we choose.

I choose time alone without the guilt of who else I'm supposed to be and road trips where the anger drops away with every mile behind the wheel.

And we choose.

I choose to rub your feet while you tell me your stories. I want to keep listening and make the clock stop. While you talk I can feel me.

And we choose.

I choose each word and they add up to paragraphs that reveal the pieces of me that want to be felt and held and laughed together; and they become written.

And we choose.

I choose to feel me in my skin in my sadness in my pleasure in me in you in my spirit guide of becoming.

And then we choose again.

we are for eachother: then

laugh, leaning back in my arms

for life's not a paragraph

~ e.e. cummings

.....

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