Take My Hand

Run with me,
not away from the pain,
not to some promised bliss,
but into the belly of this beast,
this present churning thing,
this changing of me
from self hating
and you, the aching,
into something that slightly resembles glory.

When the monster roars,
I will not give up on you.
Even if it swallows us alive,
I would rather go down, feet flying
then to be devoured standing still.

Run with me
even if we don’t end up
as glowing beings.
Run with me even if we have the skid marks
of shooting stars across our backs
and barely grazed the moon.

Run with me,
because though the future isn’t certain,
this will one day be memory.
Run with me,
because we both know it takes
being beaten in order to feel again.

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