I was running late. When I turned the corner, I saw him there, waiting for me, at a table on the patio outside our favourite café. He was chatting with the waitress, sipping on his coffee. I watched his full lips pull away from the cup and a bright smile come across his face at seeing me.
The blindfold cinched tightly around my eyes. I was already naked, sitting in a red velvet chair, hands resting on the arms. My pulse beat faster as I fingered the fabric under my palms. It's soft, yielding weave brought a sigh up to my throat.
My husband and I were married in 2012. The first time we were asked when we were going to have kids was by a family member, at our reception.
Yesterday, my friend told me I have the warrior gene because I keep fighting new mental illness obstacles. Here is a poem for me and all you out there fighting that fight, too.