To come undone.
To unwind out of delirium and into sweet softness.
To cast off the unruly wire, barbed with memories of wrongs, done unto and by you.
Hair falls knotted and frantic across your forehead, sticky with dew as you wrestle with what is and was.
Can you come undone? Can you let it be?
This push and pull. Let it go, bring it up. Look away, come closer.
Can you unfurl and allow?
Perhaps the willow weeps for joy, yet you perceive sadness.
There is a space where both the good and the bad, the forgivable and the atrocious all live.
Can you go there?
A place where your triumph and humiliation lay next to one another.
Can you embrace them together?
Will you grant yourself the clemency, the permission, the gift?
Your beauty lies not in the your ability to stow away the profanity of your humanity, but in the delicacy of your heart, unwrapped and thrust forward.
Peeling off each layer of shame, guilt, fear, greed, lust, envy, until all that is left is you.
Open.
Undone.