I want to braid my bones with you.

Not in the way people promise forever like it’s something soft.
I mean it like something binding.
Like something done in the dark, with intention, knowing it cannot be undone without consequence.

I want to be woven into you in a way that outlives reason.

Because this already feels like something deeper than choice.
Like I didn’t just fall into you, I stepped into something I knew would take me.

And I let it.

I let you settle into places I don’t let anyone reach.
Somewhere beneath language. Beneath sense.
Somewhere that doesn’t ask if this is good for me, only if it feels like you.

And it always does.

Even when you’re gone, I feel the shape of you.
Like something carved into me that hasn’t healed.
Not open, not bleeding, just… there. Permanent.

I don’t want distance from you.
I don’t want clarity.
I don’t want the kind of love that leaves me intact.

I want something that changes me.

Something that marks me so completely that there’s no returning to who I was before you.
Something that stays, even if you don’t.

That’s the part I don’t say out loud.

That I would accept the damage if it meant keeping the feeling.
That I would call it sacred just to justify why I never walked away.

Because this doesn’t feel like something I can put down.

It feels like something I entered.

Like a vow I never spoke
but still somehow kept.

(I don’t just love people, I let them live inside me, even when they were never meant to stay. And I’m still learning that something can feel sacred and still not be meant for me.)