The Weight of Your Words

I have spent a lifetime trying to be enough, building walls out of pride and other brittle stuff.

But when I am owned, leaning my weight into you, and the silence of the room is heavy and true—You lean in close, your breath a heat against my ear, and say the only words I ever need to hear.

Because I am yours, I am trembling under your weight, Caught in the magnetic pull of your quiet command. When you say, “Good Girl,” the shiver breaks through, A raw, shaking proof that I am exactly right for you. It is the ache of a purpose, a pride so great and so vast, A fire in my blood that you have ignited at last.

I am shaking, raw, and finally doing it right. Found and made whole in the heat of your light. My chest heaves with the weight of that simple, low sound, as the knots in my spirit finally come unbound.

I am proud to be yours. I am proud to be still.

I am the Girl created by your steady will.