Writing Prompt: July 20th 2014

4 août 2014
  

Write starting with this line for Yeats: "Now all the truth is out.."

Now all the truth is out.. and he knows. I haven’t told him, but such truth cannot be concealed. It’s too real, like a baby discovering its ability to bleed and heal. It’s too real, secreting from my adrenal glads, quivering my hands, my heart punching against my truth. It’s too true, like it was planned, a surprise party for me where I return home and am unexpectedly greeted by love.

The truth is out, but it was never really hidden, I just didn’t find out until now. It was not a secret, and nothing was omitted, but I hadn’t known how committed I was until I felt I would die if I wasn’t. My love, surging, forceful, moving as the sea–moving me–we are in the age of Pisces indeed, and he is my divine intervention without the lies of religion. My prophet, my prince, is it too soon to say I love you? Is it too soon to say I want to?

The truth is out: there exists an abundance of Sams and Bobbys and Rachels and they are all the same, but the man I call Habibi is as unique as his name.