Through it all I’ve been by his side. I’ve felt his heart beat fast, excited, slow, exhausted, ever changing. My ear against his chest. His chin resting on my head. And each time I know my heart answers his. It always will.
Scientifically speaking, each time a heart beats, it uses a two-part pumping action that takes about one second. He and I share this task. In sync, he does the first action and I do the second. Blood quietly rushes through both of our veins.
We’ve shared a heartbeat in moments where we played together like children in the park, then as quiet lovers stealing intense embraces and forbidden kisses in parking lots. Sharing secrets, songs and glances under dashboard lights, then in shameless lust and well-earned, familiar jokes and joy.
Our heartbeats persist while others’ stop. Through shock by what we’ve walked into and disorienting disbelief. Through silent cries late into the night while our rhythms match the hourly chimes of the clock. Sleepless nights of tried patience, constant noise and deep depression. Bursting with overwhelm and resentment. Hateful words that cannot sting because we know they are not truth. They are feeling and perception. And perception can change.
We’ve been cracked open, with nothing left inside except each other’s raw naked emotions, a weakening pulse, searching. We’ve had to flow through the darkness, only relying on what we feel. And when we feel the other’s pulse, there is always a spark.
We have chosen this oneness, and in some ways we’ve been forced into it. Although we often stumble to feel well, we sit together, to steady ourselves, for support. Unconditionally. We beat together.