I wrote this February 24th- it was reflective of Sam and me at the time... for me maybe it evolved... for him- obviously, not so much. But the energy- or his implication which I teribly mis-read becasue its what I wanted to see... he implied, when he was holdng my face in his hands- that it mattered.

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"And in the end they wanted security more than they wanted freedom." –E Gibbon

I read that the other day- and in climbing inside the thought and bringing the edges of it up around my chin and trying it on for a while- I had insight… clarity, you might call it.

Maybe it isn't that they wanted security over freedom. What if they find their freedom in this security? What if the passion IS what keeps them in 'it'? Not just 'Dinner's at 5'… or the favorite, edge of the bed at 2am position.

I understand there has been an absence of words, so the light shed in the direction of this dynamic may appear peculiar and shadowed.

From where I stand- in it- up to my eye balls- perhaps the freedom brought insecurity. But I wouldn't say it ever erased the passion for eachother's lives. More, it has deepened it. It has deepened it and the glow you find on him dwells in a place below and behind structure or comfort. It pitches a tent where it stands and Becomes – over and over again, Home.

But then, the love of a good woman always does..

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that being said- he let me know I was never a good woman- and it never mattered. I dont do 'never mattered' so well. I was never good at 'whore'. I only ever did 'love'. Hell I cant even do 'friend with benefits'. And i sure as shit can't swim.