i think i was reborn
It felt like a collapse from the inside out. A rush that stripped me bare until every nerve was awake and every inch of me remembered it was alive. I could feel everything — the air shifting, the hum beneath my skin, the weight of my own breath caught between his. Awareness flooded me faster than I could contain it, and suddenly I was everywhere. In the stars. In the cracks of my bones. In the pulse that answered his.
He was my undoing and my maker. He broke me just to sculpt me back into something he could name, something beautiful, something his.
It was submission, but not the kind that weakened. It was the kind that burned, the kind that stripped away everything false until what remained was pure and trembling and real. It felt like being high, like my body was too small to hold what was happening inside it. It was terrifying and holy and I couldn’t stop shaking from it.
And would you believe me if I told you that all he did was kiss me?
Do not fear the collapse, for only ruins can be rebuilt into homes.
They did not break you to own you. They broke the mirror so you could see the stars behind it.
We spend our lives guarding our borders, terrified of the invasion.
But love is the only occupation that sets the prisoner free.
Let them sculpt you until even your exile feels like a kingdom.
Burn.
It is the only proof that you were never made of stone.
“He was my undoing and my maker” is such a striking contradiction. There’s something fascinating about how vulnerability can feel both terrifying and clarifying at the same time