Loving from within.

ancient wounds of a weary heart,

healing each time we part.

wounds of my bloodline,

way back when,

wounds so profound they trigger at the slightest sound,

ready to run and go,

or fight and attack,

for love is our survival,

and so the inner child which claws and grabs,

at that which he believes to be connection,

that is, protection from the world,

a bondage to the familiar and maladaptive,

and so we unconsciously recreate our past,

for our inner child is fighting for survival,

but he doesn’t know he’s running very fast in the wrong direction.

Our survival, that is, loving and being loved, an authentic true love is the safe and calm,

the quiet and accepting, of who we are, and of what we become,

so now hold me close, hug me like it would never end,

hug me like we were best friends until the bitter end,

my dear.


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