I was a temple

I’ll never know what it’s like to be written about the way I write about people I love. I guess they’ll never know what it’s like to be the writer. I guess that’s what it’s like being a sun. It’s a tender tragedy of our separateness but a cause for celebration too.

I undressed slowly. I was scared but ready. This is the part where people take. But I offered myself, I asked to be used. But he didn’t, he knelt.

I was a temple. And some men come to pray for a miracle, to beg and cry. Some worse will come to steal. Some try to find sanctuary and some are wandering homeless that need shelter. But he simply wanted to take off his shoes and step with bare feet. He came to the temple  to be reverent. He wasn’t worried about rejection, that he could survive. He was worried that I wasn’t everything he had believed me to be. Because he was a man that needed to have faith in something. Someone who was looking for a religion, for a reason for god to exist, a reason to choose kindness and believe in humanity. when he knelt at my exposure I whimpered and cried because I had been hoping for someone to protect me. I had been hoping for a very long time. My hoping was my weakness and now it was not. When I realized you were safe, knowing that, was the end of my lifelong search for knowledge.