Climbing into bed with the one I love,
I forget the whole week I’ve been floating.
I’m crawling into his chest, collapsing
like air escaping Friday’s grasp.
I had shape, but I was weightless.
Now, in his warm arms, I am fearless.
I can’t be scared of fading
when in his embrace,
I’m
melting…
Gen - you found the one place where melting isn't loss. All week you were light as a feather, but that was drifting, not freedom. His arms don't keep you from dissolving; they make it safe to. And in the right arms, disappearing and arriving turn out to be the same motion.
Bravo 👏 These are beautiful, heartfelt words, brimming with love.
With gratitude,
Dominic
www.qualityofbecoming.com
There's something beautiful about how you describe rest not as sleep, but as finally becoming heavy enough to land. So many of us spend the week functioning without ever fully arriving in ourselves. Sometimes the deepest form of love is simply becoming the place where another person no longer has to keep holding themselves together.