Unmoored from Her Gravity
Distance from her is like floating untethered from what grounds me. When I’m away from Her I don’t lose my submissive edge. I gain it. It burgeons. It blossoms in silence. It aches in my chest when I wake up, haunts me throughout the day and perches low and heavy in my belly at night. It becomes the reminder that I’m not whole when I’m not under Her sway. There’s this hollow pain to it. Not weakling insecurity quite, but more resignation without an outlet. Desire with no fulfillment because the one who can fulfill it isn’t there. I can go about my day. I can talk. I can decide. But underneath it all there’s this humming: I want to be grounded again. I want to be reminded. I want to be told my place in Her world. My body knows She owns me before my brain can even begin to articulate it. I want to hear Her voice. I want to know what She'll expect of me. I want to be undone by knowing She's there and there is no pretense that I can run my own life. I feel too vulnerable to my ow...