If You Want to Sleep with Me

If you want to sleep with me, it can’t be superficial.

It can’t be because you need to get off or because you haven’t slept with someone in a while and you just need to feel something soft and real against your flesh.

If I’m going to sleep with you, it has to be deep.

It has to feel like love, even if only for this moment in time.

It has to feel like magic, because we went all the way in and we let ourselves feel every single thing that was actually there—our hopes, our longings, and all the other things that never ever get touched or seen because life is so hard and demands so exactly that we never ever say what we really want or how we truly feel.

Not to say that you will have it in you to say the actual words because I don’t know if I ever could—there’s so much in me that remains forever unsaid. But you have to hear the whisper of language in your head. You have to feel the murmur under your skin, and you have to reveal whatever you can make out in your touch, and run the risk of me actually feeling you

how you suffered

how you doubted

how you hoped someone would know about everything that ever mattered about you

without you having to say a word.

And you have to have the capacity to feel me back, even if you don’t understand. You have to be able to feel that there’s so much there. And that whatever it is, you can respect it and honor it for this one moment—even if it’s not clear how long this moment will last.

Lasting is not the point with me. I don’t feel anything for the kind of lasting that comes from sheer endurance. I don’t feel nobility in that. I don’t need honor for honor’s sake or for the fulfillment of obligations.

What I do need is deep, down in your bones respect, the kind that comes from understanding that this doesn’t happen easily.

the kind that comes from knowing what you’re getting is a gift that’s truly rare and unexpected

the kind that inspires you to be very still and to let it all sink in

the kind that ignites in you your own strength, your own wisdom which is strong in the ways that I am fragile and that can see how much the simple act of being completely present is more than enough.

So much more than enough.

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I have met you before in your kingly form.

I have tasted you in your most holy shadow.

On the mountain.

Behind the veil.

In the throes.

In the dark.

I have felt your arms behind me, undergirding me.

I have steadied to the reverberation of your voice on the oak bench as it vibrated through my back and then into my heart from behind.

I have melted into your strength.

I have wept at the sheer miracle of you. That you can enter me so deliberately, with intention and boldness, pushing against all the ways I push you away in fear or anger, until I surrender.

Surrender into your intention.

Surrender into your confidence.

Surrender into your determination to get through to me.

So get through to me.

Come.

Come all the way in, knowing that along the way you will have passed through every terror, every pain, every wasted moment that you now redeem with your tenderness, with your knowing, with your touch. Knowing that it is your presence now that melts away the madness and redeems it for something greater to both of us.

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The goddess exists in her own realm. She is hidden and unseen at times, fiery and bold in others. Furious in her passion. Completely childlike in her wonder and devotion.

I am here to embody her with all of her fierce clarity. I am here to reveal her mysteries and her tenderness. I am here to be her full expression, especially the dimensions of her that help you remember how essential it is for you to feel fully accepted, even as she challenges you—demands even—that you become the phoenix rising from your own ash.

This is the only reason to sleep with me. To know this. And not so you can get something, because God Himself knows it does not work like that. But because in seeing Her, you can see yourself, how holy and perfect and divine you are.

And by you insisting that you see Her, I get to see you in your most pure reflection: that wild shadow of God that creates hope with one word, one touch and makes the world new with nothing more than the power of his will and the golden intention of his heart.

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I am not doing well without this.

I am not doing well with being less than, that female form that ushers in release for the sake of recreation alone.

I am not doing well with how shallow that is, when I have inside me the makings of a queen and I can feel in the perfection of your touch, the power of your embrace, the regal nature of your eyes, your brow, your chin, the essence of a king.

I am not doing well with me, when I pretend that any less than the truth is okay for me.

It makes me forget that we are both meant for so much more, no matter what the perfection of our unbridled and fantastic animal nature.

So I invite you.

Sleep with me.

Come.

Be.

Here.

In this hallowed, sacred space where the flame will ignite and burn us. Where the sparks will leave us singed, divinely aware that in that dark desire, we are perfect, in all of our longings, all of our frayed edges, all of our broken dreams and all the other longings that make us dare to enter this place.

And that being here together is the only thing that can burn off the dross of our shallow intentions.

And that when we go this far in and taste this deeply, there can be nothing but the alchemy of mere mortals becoming divine portals, crossing each other back out from that magnetic darkness across the threshold, where the world waits in longing for our fleshy, soulful, raw unadulterated selves, redefined by our passions, emboldened by our knowing, fearless in our willingness to take risks and insist on solace in every instance where the world lauds caution or callousness as some sort of sick inverted wisdom.