Blog Archives
Epiphany
“It’s not mine,” I said quietly.
My hand in his, I cried.
My head was suddenly in a fog.
My heart was pounding.
It seemed built up, almost ceremonious.
He said I deserved it.
He said I earned it.
I was beside myself.
I didn’t need it, not specifically.
This is an honor, a token of the gift we share.
I became confused. I didn’t understand.
Was it… temporary?
I walked around for three days, wondering, analyzing.
But it’s not mine.
It was placed, shared; a reminder.
It was a sign of my place, my submission.
It was touched, caressed, flipped, pulled.
It weighed me down and buoyed me up.
It defined me, it defined him, it defined us; it defied definition.
It meant everything and it meant nothing more.
It was clearly muddled in my head and a matte brilliance around my neck.
I needed to understand. I needed to know.
I shared my confusion, my pain.
It was a sign of my place, my submission.
It was placed, shared; a reminder.
But it’s not mine.
I walked around for three days, wondering, analyzing.
Was it… temporary?
I became confused. I didn’t understand.
This is an honor, a token of the gift we share.
I didn’t need it, not specifically.
I was beside myself.
He said I earned it.
He said I deserved it.
It seemed built up, almost ceremonious.
My heart was pounding.
My head was suddenly in a fog.
My hand in his, I cried.
“It’s not mine,” I said quietly.
“No,” he replied, softly, carefully,”… it’s *mine.*”
