and all i want to do is lay their soul in my hands, blow the dirt off, maybe gently wipe the mud off, always wary about exerting too much pressure, breaking this little thing so trustingly placed into my care.

and the more i look into this soul, the more i see the light captured in it, captured and reflected. slow warmth that spreads from my palms to my wrists up the inside of my arms to my elbows.

and thats when i know i have no right touching the soul, much less being exposed to it. thats when i know how lucky i am to have earned that trust. thats when i know i could never spend a life with them because if only because i would taint that piece of them.

and if you were here i would say this is the truth and place your hand on my belly because, for me, that is where my truth comes from.

not from the side of my rib cage, not from my heart, not from my head. my belly.

i would take your hand and place it on my belly. place it where you could feel the heat of me. the center of me.

i would tell you this is the truth. this is the truth. and this, this is the truth.