I let myself trust myself that letting. But the trust! The trust is easy, the way nothing isn’t slept. Smoothly. The way I don’t have to think about breathing; I just smoothly. The trust is deep rich as pudding softness. not instant, but forever (homemade). Something that I can put my hand into that will stick coat it, so I can deliciously lick it off into me. Easy wanting more, which is always there. I let it be.
March 1971