With me

With my arms, I bore you up as if you were a child, and spun you around, whirling, whirling around and holding you close, enfolding you and encompassing you. With my arms I gestured to you and beckoned you to join me again amongst the bright white sheets, where love was proved and would be again. With my arms I provide for you, and hope that they may never grow weary.



With my shoulders, I leaned hard against those things that would seek to break you from the dream that we had created. With my shoulders I gave you a place to lean and rest your head when you slumbered, or wept, or laughed. With my shoulders, I held you up on a pedistal, far above the crowd that milled around us, and your gaze went out for miles.



With my back, I carried those loads that were necessary; though they left me scarred, I would do it again with you. With my back, I was pressed against the bed by the weight of you on me, our bodies together again. With my back, I carried the stones that built our house, our refuge from the rest of the world.


With my heart, I was finally able to drink from that deep well of love, and slaked what I thirsted for until we were together. With my heart, I vowed to keep you as mine own, and committed myself to you for all time. With my heart, I loved you.

With me, we are one. With you, I can do anything.