by fxwrk

when it happens

he will understand. He will not say he understands. He will not say sorry I wish I could understand but I cant but I love you anyway and I’m trying. He will understand.

he will have spent a life

like yours, in shadows

busy plumbing his depths on the outskirts of ‘them’ where the wildflowers try to bloom but usually don’t because they’re too self conscious

he will have spent a life

undoing every knot that someone else tied inside him until the beds of his god forsaken fingernails are bruised and bleeding,

he will be real among ghosts, abandoned bodies

he will have fought for it, like you did, on hands and knees in talks with god on quiet mornings in December

perhaps his aura will emit a matching shade of purple blue so bright that

modern shamans will only be able to gaze at us, quietly, from a short distance

knowing smiles betraying glowing insides that burn with recognition of our union

and when they approach us to tell us we are beautiful, we’ll understand that we earned it

and say thank you

and glow a little more.

and when I am sad or he is sad we will mix our blues with purple kisses and make indigo love

we won’t need dirty words, we’ll have telepathy.

he will get it. He won’t say he gets it. He wont say sorry I wish I could get it but I cant and I love you anyway and im trying.

He’ll just get it.

The day you realize this,

you will cry and cry and cry

but that wont scare him

for he too will have cried

alone in rooms too small to hold the love he kept aflame inside through storms that raged for years, relentless

alone in rooms inside him where the black and blueness waited like a monster

that only needed love. His love, the light of his blessing

(in my daydreams, we are mostly healed)

the blue black soothed, the wait is now for goddess

to unlock vaults of gold the monsters used to guard, defeated

they lay slain by love

self love that is

which had to come before hand, it was the only way

and only now are we truly free to love one another

when it happens

you will know what love is

like you should have known, so long ago

but until then,

you must plumb your own depths, baby girl (be strong)

you must untie every knot that someone else tied inside you

until your bony war worn fingers find their way,

find themselves wrapped around his, each one screaming in tiny little finger voice that they will never let go

(no one has ever kissed you like he will)

until then, you will bypass distraction


half baked romances that you sometimes want to build just so someone can touch you enough for you to feel more alive more often

until then you will not fret that there have been no boyfriends

no coupled profile picture moments

no ‘bae’

no warm body that you know will always make your own his priority

no kept promises or hands to hold in silence on mornings in december

until then,

you will heal and heal and heal. and heal some more. And love yourself out loud in lots of color

until you fully are who you were meant to be before they put you on the assembly line

until the day you are your soul manifest in form, eternal

until the day that lights the final darkness, rendering the expression of your divinity a conscious act of will

and when the woman-child inside you truly lives out loud and shines her light all free and fearless

you’ll come upon a figure in a clearing

and find another unicorn

and ride his rainbow to the end of the world.