The two of us, it was, when we were young and ever since, the two of us were stripped bare in the place inspired by and revealed by and propelled by closeness shared and the need to be nothing and everything, the great paradox, but not in spiritual, individual purity, oh no; rather, it was a selfishly shared unison. It was in unison that we fell through the wormhole and down the well, it was in unison that we travelled onward, and it was in unison that we breathed, so, oh, oh, do not tell me, no, you cannot tell me that I need to breathe on my own, alone, alone now.
And if by some strange compulsion I have cracked open our secret bubble, our pod, and spilled the fine ichor, the golden drops of pure love, then I am the one who has betrayed, I am the one who has betrayed us, I have betrayed our love, I am strangely compelled to show our love, why am I showing our love, because it was, it was so beautiful and it is something that is quite free; it is free now.
And that’s the thing, the secret is not a secret, it is there for everybody but no one says anything because they think it’s a secret, secret, secret, secret thing, why not share the drops of pure, pure beauty, and why not earlier, much earlier, because, because lesbian, that’s why.
Lesbian nothing, nothing to worry about, this secret that should not be a secret is for everybody, anybody, anybody who loves somebody, who has somebody to love, anywhere there are two hearts beating, two hearts breathing to the beat of that one drum, breathing naked together, we are joined at the heart and we breathe in unison, always, we pretend it is for always, but know it is not so.
In unison it was, too, when you were breathing and dying, oh, shall I tell them, the others, will they read it and see it and think me mad or far too sad and morbid, God help me, they might need to know this, that we breathed in unison when you were dying and I thought to myself you needed your space so I stayed in my study, but looked at you through the doors across the hallway and I thought I should not breathe rhythmically like you, slower deeper, down the wormhole, down the well, travelling onward, you knew where you were going, that’s a good thing, then I thought I should not breathe any longer in time with you, and you thought you should not breathe any longer and so you did not, and the great paradox of everything and nothing prevails, so it does.
©2018 Allison Wright
[First draft written: 01-03 May 2017; Second draft, 02 March 2018. João died on 04 March 2017.]