it was beautiful . . .

we simply put forehead to forehead,
                         fingertip to fingertip,
                         touched toe to toe and

we accepted -

we didn’t move,
we didn’t flinch

- and we weren’t afraid
of one another.

                 (it was strange . . .)

we cared not to harm
one another.

just accepted

us, together, as one
became the object of
reality.

resting . . .

breathing . . .

never flinching;
never afraid.

we even shared
our deepest thoughts

as one
we shared our plots,
our stories and
all our characters,

the . . . protagonist
and the other and . . .

                     (it was weird . . .)

we weren’t afraid
of each other

even then,
we wished not
to harm each other.

just accepted

us, together, as one
became the new meaning
of fantasy

we shared our
wildest dreams

and laughed
and danced

and, still, firmly pressed
together we were free

(and still not afraid!)

to fall down
and get up
together . . .

we helped
one another.

we’d cry
over our bruises

together.

we accepted
everything
that made us whole

and, that, was all . . .

and, it was beautiful . . .