What preempted these toxic thoughts and words? A tincture that flowed inside us, seeped into bones, traveled unnoticed in dark, wet silence? Were we stained by it? Infused? Poisoned?
Is there more to say? Haven't we talked enough?
That habits, feelings, ideas, and actions have a beginning. From the dampness, this stuff pulled its tint, sugar, shape. We can't deny that we made this juice together, made it sensual, palpable, gave it a presence that remained because we wouldn't release it.
As I present myself to you on this Sunday morning, I offer myself as changed, declare that I am able to see who and how you are, I can't name what shifted or when. An unclenching occurred and sweetness rose - to my mouth in this request that you and I reconsider our thoughts - that we try a different form of union.