Beautifully Broken.

I always remember His words, of that moment of being "beautifully broken".  In a D/s sense that is.  And I get that. I understand that too.  It isn't for everyone. I understand the words that He shared, I understand what it means. But more so, I *know* how it feels.  I *know* what it is like.

There is beauty in it.

But, there was no beauty in Him last night. 

He sat there his arms holding himself close as if He was afraid to ever let go.  Fighting back the tears which He had never shown to anyone else.  

Afraid for anyone to see the sadness that He felt within, the pain, the loss. 

But just as He knows me.

I know Him.

Just as He does with me, I know Him better than He knows Himself at times. 

"it's ok to let it out ~ no-one, *I* will not think any less of You, it doesn't make You weak to let it out."

*silence*

His eyes portrayed the depths of His pain and His sadness as He looked at me.  He looked lost in a way I have never seen Him look before, like a young child wanting to be reassured that it will be ok. 

"It will be ok, it will."

He sat there and I held Him as He cried. 

"It will get easier. It will get better. It will . . .be ok that is"

There was no beauty in His pain.

There is always beauty in Him.

He was broken.

But not beautifully so.