I’ve always been good with the truth… It’s not that I always recognize truth, but once I find something to be true, I don’t lose it. Truth grows inside of me, burning like a flame I can’t get enough of. For me, truth is a drug. I need it, and I can’t take avoiding it, especially when it just hovers there in the middle of whatever diversion that fails to hide it away.
Truth is sacred. Difficult to find and keep in memory.
And this truth. You, and I. There is a passion here, and not the flimsy, dramatic, romance novel kind. This is a passion that is achingly real, the kind that makes your knees tremble and your heart pound. This is love.
Love is sacred too, in its honesty. It can be love for only a moment, or a love that lasts years, but every second we experience love, we run our fingers through the fire of the divine.
I don’t want to pull my hand away. If I let go of you, I might never find that spark again. I may not get much of it in this life, and that’s alright.
I just want to savor this one truth.