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Click hereThe prison of self,
the prison of me,
the prison of histrionics,
seer's you lover.
Sturdy is my gatekeeper,
my savior.
You see through me,
in me,
to me,
and still love me…
Why?
My orchid,
my wife,
my Christmas,
my resurrection,
I am a fool,
in the warm embrace of your kind touch,
your forgiving caress,
your tender kiss.
I am me,
and you love me—
a perpetual adolescent.
Is that Christmas?
If so,
your forgiving love
is the only gift I need.
You are my Jesus.
I am reminded of Patti Smith and "Easter Sunday"--it has that same slow rhythm. I agree with V--it is lovely to see you here again, Espie.x