Not falling, but being held in love

My hands tremble when he holds them up and stares me down, I’m always surprised by his intensity. I should’ve expected it though, I’ve been teasing him the entire night. There is something so pleasurable in being possessed. Belonging to one other than yourself. Something beautiful in letting go of the rigidness with which you have been holding your body tight. Something so ecstatically relieving about letting your skin be grabbed, dissolving like loose threads into strong hands. I love losing myself in you, shamelessly, without a sense of time.

When I believed that I had to earn love, I found myself addicted to the chase. That incredible sensation of being rewarded when I acted right. The familiar pain of having my rightful inheritance of love held away from me, and then returned, but only briefly, until it was cruelly taken away from me again. I got used to inconsistency, to the degree that I couldn’t recognize sincerity if it knocked on my door. More recently, I’ve started believing that I am inherently deserving of love, and I have discovered that when one believes that they are divine, they begin to receive worship.

Bodies sway and find each other in the darkness always, we desire proximity, even when we should be vigilant. You trust me so deeply in your nakedness and I gently massage your shoulders as your head rests on my lap. You mumble incoherently and I kiss you in response. You find me and I want you to. You always find me in the dark.

I didn’t trust you until I let myself unravel messily and you were still there. Waiting, diligently, to caress my messy bits. Those too, you seem to love. I think you like me even when I’m struggling to find something to like about myself. My divinity is reflected back to me in your gaze, your eyes are never clouded. You hold my hands gently after I’ve used them tirelessly all day and when you kiss each finger, I remember that I need to rest.

I like feeling small against your body. It is exhausting to be larger than life all day. I do not know that I am performing until you have me in your arms and then I melt into you. P was right when he sensed my desire before even I did. Last year, on A’s birthday, he had asked me, “Don’t you want somebody who you can just fall carelessly into? Somebody who knows how to catch you?” At the time, I didn’t believe that I deserved such a love. I had responded too quickly that I preferred a more detached romantic experience.

The funny thing about life is that sometimes you do not quite know what you want, until you have it. That is when you find out, if it is the right thing, or if you’ve been wanting the idea of something all along. Each time I’ve thought I wanted something, I found myself discontent even when I had it. I didn’t think that I wanted him, until he held me and I found myself unable to move. A part of me had already created a home within his arms and I just wanted to be held there.