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She is all. She is where I belong. She is Home. Yet I had – and still have – the arrogance to insist that we love as equals. So she has cast me down to this place. Among the half-people, the confused, the sinners. Now I am a half-confused sinner. And I love her still. If she cast me aside in her dark rage of pride, she also has mercy and compassion. For she has taken the form of an avatar to taunt me again. And from the jest and mystery her half-smile mocks, I see that she knows what I know – and so I will not spoil her game. Nor will I claim a told-you-so. Though perhaps we are equals now.
Pwl ~ August 1997 ©

her reasons are my tears · her tears are my words · her words are my reason