I.
I’m morally complex.
What used to be straightforward
grew wings and left the building.

I’m open-ended—
a consequence to no one but myself—
but I tend to rub others the wrong way
and catch misunderstanding a lot.

There’s not much I can do about it
without stepping outside of being true to me.

II.
I know something about that, He says—
wry grin,
sparkle eyes that steal my whimsy-heart His.

I like me.
I love me.
I appreciate myself
even when I fall down or make mistakes.

At least I did it with my whole heart.

III.
Precisely. Your heart never quits.

I really love my growth.
I don’t fit boxes, categories, or assumptions.

I lay over His torso,
eye to eye,
breath kissing breath.

I love to make unusual things work.
It’s my magic.

It’s your burden.
Yes.

I’m not delinquent, Loki—
I’m just endlessly curious.

Who is complaining, Dear Love? Anyone?

Guess not.

Chin up, then.
You’re doing fine—
morally complicated and all.

His assurance doesn’t stop my questioning,
and that’s why He gives it.

He knows it spurs my mind and heart
to broaden shapes,
colors,
ideas,
introspection,
and connection.

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