I Wanna Be Inside Of All That

I find you lying starfish in the sand.

I want you to see me, but the sand dollars are too bright, deflecting too much light.

The water burns like salt on my lips. You ask me to hold your hand, but I am made of sand.

I slip right through your fingers, as I watch you leaving me.

Up the hill, far away from the sea where old River Walter’s home once stood. Now all that remains is an old rocking chair and a broken-down Sycamore frame, rotting in the woods.

I ask you where you think old River Walter’s has gone, but really I want to ask you: why won’t you touch me? Why won’t you fuck me? Because no one can see us but the foam crashing off the waves and the gulls screeching overhead.

You look down, watch the wind blow sand across the disembodied floor boards, through an invisible door way.

You always tell me I’m this big thing, so much bigger than you.

But I wanna be a woman.

I wanna be a girl.

I don’t wanna be bigger than life, cause life hurts.

I wanna be inside of all that.

Want more? More stories of love in and out of sex addiction recovery: Here and Here.

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Peace, Love, and Gnosis, your pal,

Border Land Delia-Ann

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