Blossoming, unfurling

 I'm loosing myself to a man 

and he is handing me right back to myself.

He's holding me in my unfolding, in my unleashing.

I am a flower being nurtured, watered, 

supplied with care instead of being picked and enjoyed briefly.

I'm looking to him to fulfill me,

to validate me,

desires coming from a place of lack.

They are not pure.

They are fear.

Fear of blossoming and embracing my own beauty.

He is assisting me in my becoming, my fledging, by standing at the sideline.

There is no game, no race, just love and encouragement.

Support so sexy it rises me to stand, 

to create

 to bloom.

We can then both then truly witness and embrace the fullness of who I am 

and I can be free.

-A. White (written on 14/8/21)