What leans a woman into her Life? Lean close to the Ache of pain or grief instead of away? Not Away into drink, sex, TV or buying. But instead Breathe hot and brave into heart ruptures, pressing pearl bones against trial and Mistakes, angled up close enough to see the Splinters as they happen.
Moon was such a Woman. Tall, strong, soft, wrapped in amber and citrus oil, Kindness like a long scarf trailing from her hair.
When Moon first kissed her with mint fire lips, did all the stars Stop to watch? It seemed so. She sank her black bags of Loss to Moon’s bare feet, who simply leant in, stepped over them, and Kissed her again.
When they first made Love, after 2 months of crawling round her Ugly walls, Moon whispered her name over and over, calming urges to Flee outside her frozen body, with the thin blood and forever tears.
For Moon, she Warmed.
When they first fought, as all lovers must, firework shouts Cracked between them. Her shield’s roar kept safe her Heart, but Moon’s eyes drank each detail of her carved Fear and Shame. She knew she was truly being Seen. Neither cowering nor shoving would send Moon away; she leant toward her still, and spoke her Name once more, like mead.
Just for a moment, the dank concrete tunnel of her past life lit up; the graffiti of hate on her insides dripped to the floor. This woman’s love feathered onto Raw edges she’d never faced, never bathed, never tended.
Just for a moment, Moon ate the Dark.