In the profound darkness of a frigid night, I can hear his labored breathing. He appeared to be worn out yesterday. Today, I find myself fatigued by the wounds of love, exhausted by my inability to trust in this concept we call love completely.
Love is meant to be gentle; love is meant to be forgiving. While he longs to cuddle, I simply desire to rest. Inspiration for a poem strikes me unexpectedly, often during the most mundane moments.

I cherish his smile; I enjoy the sensation of his rough, unshaven stubble against my skin. As I write, I continually reinvent myself—Joy Harjo. Yet, with each word, I also remember the struggles and painful moments I’ve encountered. I think back to betrayal—Annie Lander.
It wasn't merely infidelity; it was the haunting vision of my partner engaging intimately with others, eliciting their cries.

My restless thoughts persist in posing questions that elude answers. Still, I have sought divine protection for my well-being. May my fears transform into verses that help me grasp why the most agonizing experience on this earth is to love a man.

“Sometimes, giving all of your love isn't much to save a good soul; it demands soul for a soul as fair payment.” — Gurusharan Singh