You are my wilderness.

So often you have rescued me as I’ve plunged into the depths of despair.

Circling me with that specific tenderness in your eyes, you determine to envelop me and my tears.

I have never become accustomed to your powerful empathy for my sadness. I think it’s because I’m not quite sure that I’m deserving of such naked, blatant love.

You are the wilderness that I run to. You are the safe place in the woods—the dark, moist, cave where I lay myself down and weep, until I can weep no more.

In the instant that I fall apart, you are there to offer the strength of your arms and the wisdom of your words. I can clearly see that my tears undo you, and that you would kill to have me whole again. Yet all that you reveal to me is your determination to make things right—to help me find the balance I have lost.

In the wilderness of each others love, we walk with our black stallion faithfully leading the way—his breath misty in the early morning light—further, further, to a place that no-one else has discovered. A shadowy landscape of tall trees and ivy and ferns—where we fall into each other on a bed of ancient moss, and erase the world from our ears and our hearts.

I find respite in the kisses of your exquisite mouth. I find truth in the way you strip me bare. I find solace in the way your hands own my skin.

You’ve always known that I need to be taken roughly when I’m suffering.

Please read more here…