little poly molly

The woman who sees my soul.

Being around her is my emotional exhale. She helps to center me. She makes me feel loved and safe.

Beth held my hand while Phillip stroked my hair.

“This is happiness,” I said.

“No, this is love,” Beth responded gently.

“Why?” I asked.

I’ve been no-contact for eight years but was recently forced into contact due to a family emergency.

I need help getting back to where I was before I made contact with her again.

He was so close I could feel the warmth of his mouth on my forehead, and I inhaled deeply to drown myself in his scent. I could smell every part of him- his breath, his skin, his sweat, his pheromones.

“You’re intelligent, beautiful, and you’re kind. You take care of others. You’re such a good person.”

and i know she’s not leaving so i don’t ask her

to stay”

In between cutting up the pineapple she casually reached across the counter to hand me a piece.

That was something I wish my mother had done. I don’t have any memories with her that were casual- sitting, cooking dinner, nonchalantly handing me a piece of fruit because she knew I’d love it.

Beth: “Of course!”

Phillip: “Don’t even worry about it. You can have whatever you want. What else do you want?”

She said that to me once, a long time ago.

I wish she would say it again.

Not sexually. Not romantically.

But that I’m her’s because my safe place is where she is.

Then I’ll die happy, without a care.