As a Man, standing at my limits. Open, feeling – fumbling for words to say what is inside. I  have already journeyed a million miles to get to this place. And I still touch shame, and judgment, frustration and anger. All of these live within me. And tenderness, and weirdness, and darkness, and edges, and light.

What will you choose to hear? Can you take it all and just hold my gaze whilst my soul flows? Can I honour you in the same way? Or is this a one way street?

Or do you need the tempered down version. Do you need something ‘fixed’ – is there something I should not be doing, should be doing, should not feel, should not be?

Do you want my truth in which I am weak and strong, light and dark, all my flavours? Or do you want the poster ‘vulnerable man’ who half shows up, lets half himself out. And stops short. Of. Being. Seen. As. Weak.  Handing his strength, his power, his truth away in exchange for a flawed facsimile of peace.

I am unbroken. Do not try to fix me. Nor are you. I will not try. Nothing is wrong. Except when we do not talk.

I long to drink you in again – when the fears subside.