I want to give you my heart. I want to take it, open it, and lay it reverently at your feet. I want to be soft before you. Unguarded. So that love, awe and wonder spill out of me, lighting the darkness around you. I want you to see my humanity, notice the beauty in it, and know it as yours.
I want this for us. I want us to cradle each other, nurture each other, and then set each other free, each stronger and lighter for what we have given and received. So that even when we fall again, when the memory of this moment is stolen by shadows that insist they are all that has or will ever be, some tiny, flickering part of us will remember. And we will keep going. We will lie down for as long as we have to, and then crawl for as long as we need to, until we can rise, stumbling to our feet, to walk and find each other again.
I don’t want to be alone anymore.
I don’t want you to feel alone anymore.
We are different and yet so much the same.
I want to give you my heart. So that you will know always that you are loved. That even in your suffering you are beautiful. That even in your hopelessness you are courageous. That though you can not see it, you are exquisite.
The world is better with you in it.
Take my heart.
Carry it with you until the day you can believe.
Until the day when you can see yourself as I do.