I am nothing.
I am no one if I am not his.
I am nothing if my devotion has nowhere to rest, if my heart cannot pour itself into him, if the love I carry is not touched by him.
I am nothing...
Yet somehow, I am still everything.
Everything he has awakened in me.
Everything reflected back through his eyes.
Everything that becomes softer, stronger, quieter in his presence.
I am his reflection, not because I disappear, but because I choose to stand where his light reaches me.
I ache to belong...to him
I ache to be his.
To wear my love without shame.
To surrender to him without fear.
To be chosen every day, just as I choose him.
Without that, my lungs still fill with air, but each breath feels hollow, as though my body remembers a home my heart cannot find.
My breath feels useless.
Because I long for a life where every breath is shared with the one I call mine.
I am nothing...
What am I, if the breath in my lungs is not drawn for him? If my heartbeat does not answer his? If my hands cannot reach, serve, or worship?
Then let them stop.
For what is breath without purpose? What is a pulse without devotion? What is a body that cannot belong?
Strip me of my name, for it means nothing. Strip me of my voice, for it only learned to speak when it spoke to him.
Strip me of my will, for I have no desire greater than surrendering it.
Leave me empty.
I do not long to be seen.
I long to disappear so completely into him that no one can tell where I end and where he begins.
Let them call it madness. Let them call it obsession. Let them whisper that I have been bewitched, brainwashed, lost.
Perhaps I have.
For I have searched every corner of freedom, and nowhere did I feel as alive as I do wearing the weight of belonging to him.
I am nothing.
Nothing without his will.
Nothing without his voice.
Nothing without the quiet certainty that every breath belongs to him before it ever reaches my lungs.
I am nothing.
Nothing without him.
Nothing beyond him.
Nothing before him.
And yet...
In becoming nothing,
I became entirely his.