Allow her to have a voice, to whisper truths, sometimes twisted, sometimes trembling truths from her fantasy, from her capable mind.
Allow her to fashion her longing into palatable perspective, then serve it to you on a plate of that day’s honesty.
Now savor the threads of the conversations, absorb them to your core, and wait, even longer, for the next days’ truth may not align or appeal…but they are still her truth.
Then, without seeking signs or conforming to roles we play, forge ahead, accept her strength, adore her words and her style, unlock the hidden self and fashion all into the architecture of your shared story…and only after reviewing and learning the floor plan she has drawn, pull her down next to you, to sit together at the drafting table of your feasting.
Hip to hip, sit and set the tone for the construction of your kingdom, the secret passageways, the unmarked doors, the staircases to heady heights.
Then, design the garden with winding pathways for running and wandering, a place to embrace, where echoes repeat her words, with graceful limbs, with winding curves set in soothing stone, a sanctuary void of regret, a refuge. And when your lover finds your worship to be her burden and she seeks an escape from her truth, this acoustic chamber will amplify her wants and provide a road back to her mind and body, when you recognize your need has drowned her voice, again.
Over and over, she warns him to resist the pedestal; no one balances long without the fatal fall.