We All Have Our Choices

I had planned it before he even came.

Unearthed the key I had long buried in my most secret place,
warmed it in my hand, waiting.

I was in ritual, preparing for the giving of this gift.
Smudging walls in copal, dressing the scene in orchids and light,
making prayer without even realizing it.

Naivety has always been my crux.

Upon his scent, which paired well with my own pheremonal elixir,
I loosened my grip, careful not to let his eyes catch sight
of the dirtied brass I gently polished between my fingertips.

He took my feet in his hands. This was the way he touched me first.
I slid the teeth of the key into the mouth of the lock,
poised for the turning.

Confirmation came in the kiss. I had chosen wisely.
Head and eyes rolled back, tongues merging, spirit exhaled through my body,
through my crown chakra and out the soles of my feet.
Love's green cords dropped into the earth, anchoring me on his breath.
Under the din of my smile, I heard the lock unhasp its clasp.

The tsunami rolled in from the deepest sea within me,
swelled in every cell,
broke its waves against my skin,
laid waste to bone and vessel, sinew and muscle.

This rapture ensued.

As he entered me, I flowed out and spread wide and vast as the ocean.
From the depths of my primordial waters
came entities that had never before seen the light.
He reached for his camera to capture the sight.

Brilliantly colored, dancing, singing, they made their way to the surface,
drinking oxygen through my pores,
radiating and glowing behind my eyes.

They whispered their names in ancient tongues, but
said I could just call them "Love."

I welcomed Love, then, just as I did him.
It was my choice to open in this way
and at this time.
It was my prerogative to let minutes fall into hours of nails on his back.
It was my directive to angle my hips just so, that he might touchdown on the ocean floor.
It was my aim to wrap around his flesh as tightly as his corkscrew curls wrapped round my digits.
It was my call to fall.

It was his to improvise.

"Love just IS," he had wanted me to believe,
but Love is also a choice,
and we all have our choices.

I chose him before he even came.

I opened that floodgate.

And now that he is gone,
and there is no certainty he will ever return,
and the waters have receded,
exposing the desolate void of loss and pain,

I will live with my choices.

I, alone, will own this Love.