Why don't we have anything that's just ours?

You share a life, but you have not marked it as yours. No song only you sing, no hour that belongs only to the two of you, or the three of you, or however many you are. Everything you do could be done with anyone. That is the ache underneath this — not that you lack love, but that you lack a shape for it. I left a palace because it had rooms for everything except the one thing I wanted to do — dance for my Beloved without shame. Nobody gave me that ritual. I built it, in public, with my own body, until it became unmistakably mine. You do not need permission to make something sacred. You need only to do it again next week. A ritual is not a big ceremony. It is a small door you walk through together, on purpose, on repeat, until the walking itself becomes the meaning.