he, we

so the thing with my love is that it shines

so bright within the cocoon we’ve jointly knitted.

in there, playfulness disarms, feedback molds,

habit soothes. it’s familiar and safe.

in there, gender roles disintegrate and

personalities intertwine. it’s exclusive and mutual.

it’s a sacred space.

and then, when it comes to roaming

the streets of the world individually,

and getting our fingernails dirty from work,

and being triggered by our respective topics

and perhaps being smitten with those folks

who are more like us and our respective heritage,

pulling that invisible skin around us at night

gets harder and harder.

distance seeps in and settles and announces cheekily

to be intending to stay.

it happens every time.

so togetherness is either the quest of

learning to stretch the skin of kinship or

inviting the world in. or

both at the same time, who knows.

what remains is the desire to be enough and belong

and grow freely into whom we were supposed to become

before this all started. love

means wanting it all and

having it, love, want all of us in return.

it’s like that bush that’s always burning

but that’s never consumed by the fire, only glowing

with sacrifice and


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