You are gold.

You are gold.

I know their hands grip your neck like  noose of vines and thorns. As I am in you, I feel your pain deep down here in your core. Their fingers feeling sharp and etched to your being as time ticks, it  makes you beg. Beg the world to lift itself up from your back.

Darling, you’re gold. And you are forged in fire and storm. And you’re soft. You need the pounding and the lashing out…  But I love you enough to cut the noose off your neck. Your frail, undetermined spirit make your happiness squirm and cry out for help. It wants to stay. You want it to stay.

But if it fades, love would always find it. It will find where happiness would go and lead it back to you. You’re as precious as the gold that you are, my sweet. Lay your body bare in your sleep and let the wind soothe you. The storm was rough. When you wake, you shall feel stronger.

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