being wanted is easy.
desire requires so little effort.
longing can be found anywhere.
being known is a dangerous thing.
the vulnerability of displacing my armor
for the warmth of human touch;
the pain of enduring the knowledge
that the hand cupping my cheek
can hold a knife to my throat
and take from me anything it wants.
feeling the warmth drain from me
to a pool at my knees
and loving the sensation.
gasping for air and feeling it enter my new wound
and exit as a prayer i’ve never heard before.
i am sick of worship.
i want to pour.
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