My Alone

I love my Alone. I love the time when its just me and my skin.
Singing, dancing, cooking, breathing, laughing, thinking, dreaming.
I love my Alone. I love the peace and comfort that comes from this skin.
The brilliant, scary imperfections.
I love my screaming thoughts. My desires can be loud or as quite as the leaky
kitchen faucet. They can be still as the late afternoon air.
I love that my Alone needs no validation. No approval.
My Alone sings before an audience of one and is perfect every time.
My Alone is comfortable at the movie theater in the company of strangers.
My Alone is brave, throwing smiles to fleeting faces.
My Alone is forgiving. Letting me know that its never too late in the day to start over.
It gives me space to dream my dreams over and over and over again.
To smile on them, growing with anticipation.
My Alone is affecting, constantly reminding me of the people I have in my life
and constantly preparing me for others.
Even in my tangles with others, my Alone is always welcoming.
Always freeing, always celebratory of all that I am.