Knees

It wasn’t until I was no longer afraid of being formless around you that it happened. I let go of the need to protect my sensitivity, I’m all dough, and cheese, soon as you begin speaking to me- my strength is no longer defined by its constant state but by its content’s state.

It wasn’t until the swords and rockets were relinquished, until the security force was extinguished in the freedom of being with you that I realized- I never had an issue with weakness. 

I’ve always concealed it, like a never ending game of hide and go seek, but under your touch, I spill all the secrets to the mystery. I shyly confess that I actually can’t do things. My force fields have always had holes and my desires have always had walls, if you crucify me I’ll bleed. Please. Stick your fingers into the road carved through my palms. I am weak.

And I am happy to let my weaknesses breathe, because each exhale sharpens my hearing as I’m lulled to sleep by your heartbeat.

Weakness was never the enemy.

Just the feeling of being vulnerable.

But even when I’m exposed, your light corrupts the negatives, and the true image of who I am is safe all over again.

A win win.

In my skin.

I think I’m in love with…

The Queen who brings me to my knees.

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