breathing again.

somewhere in between your magnetic touch, I was teleported into the in-betweenness of worlds. the infinite ohs, my fingers in yours. our fingertips delicate enough to spin the entire world into motion. something miraculous brewing in the background of your limitless love.

I stop midway and catch my breath. something in my heart breaks. something of a metallic cling— sharp, harsh, formidably tough. something of a cold, haunted memory I don’t want to touch. you hold my hand and catch those sunken clouds from falling too hard and place that beautiful hand of yours on my heart. safe. I’m safe.

oh God, I’m safe.

finally, I can lean on this shoulder. sleep deeply. dream of beautiful things that are not only fantasies. things I can touch. my freedom. my life. that pain lurking deep in my belly, that screaming voice that doesn’t fade no matter how hard I try. the shame that I have stopped to try.

God, you heard my plea that late May night, kneeling down with tears too hot to touch. I pleaded for a way out. I begged You to gain my power back. it stung me so hard how much I could not bear sugarcoating the incessant pain of not having enough room to breathe. I was suffocating. something was wilting. dying.

I coughed it out in a spur of a moment just to release the debris, but the coughing does not heal. it was one step I thought was everything, but it was the one that showed me it was nothing. after all this time, I realise that there are some things not meant for love. it is righteous then to return to letting go and love oneself.

again, in your arms I am, drowning. my smile glittered in tears of receivership. I always knew I’d need to be saved, I’d need His light in yours. and so I fall apart at the gates of letting go, and take in the lights of being loved.