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I once thought love had to be
a house I had to be invited into.
I stood at doors, hands in my pockets, waiting for someone to
turn the knob and say,
you, yes you,
are finally worthy of warmth.
but real, real love,
dosen't work like that.
love is a fire you have to build yourself.
you have to stack the wood.
split open your ribs.
set your own damn soul on fire.
open your mind like a pair of legs. dive into yourself with the same hunger you have brought to lovers. put your fingers on your deepest fears. kiss your shame like a holy mouth. pull the sheets of your past. undress your trauma.
lick the wound clean - christopher sexton
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