The Guest Is Already Inside

The house is quiet now, and the silence feels like an accusation. You are certain that if they saw the full depth of your need, they would turn and run.

That if the mask slipped, the love would leave with it. So you hold your breath, keeping the door locked, pretending the hunger isn't there.

But the light does not run from the dark places; it walks straight into them. It came from the place where light generates itself, and it knows exactly what it is finding when it finds you.

You do not have to clean the room before the guest arrives. The guest is already inside, waiting for you to stop hiding.

The fear says they will flee. The truth says they have already stayed.