I am wavering again.
In and among the trees I once knew so well.
The light reflects in patterns.
As if to invite me in.
I hear Of Monsters and Men.
Walk the Moon in the wind.
It stings like winter never came.
What if that was it?
Winter came and froze over this heart that held hope for you
Is it me?
What did I awaken?
I have held this love so close .
For so long.
Shushing it like a child seeking comfort.
“This is not what you think.”
I say out loud.
Nothing but birds high above and the crinkle of old leaves.
“This is not beneficial.
You decided your path.
What will you make of your life Jess?
What will you make of death?
Have you forgotten?
Suddenly I smell your cologne surrounding me.
I feel that same old cloak of rebirth.
Since August I have not allowed anyone in.
Millimeters at a time.
Then I felt what “normal” could be.
Like a badly abused stray from the raw vulnerability of it all.
Do I truly feel as if I have not felt love?
That would be a lie.
Though I have endured many forms of abuse my only abuser these past few years was myself.
How do I reconcile something I’ve buried in the magma of my core?
As spring is fighting winter I feel it within myself.
Do I know what I want?
What I need?
Am I deceiving myself with skin hunger or with an undeniable reality?
I am returning to that old familiar gravel, yet again.
That’s the thing about grief….
Or maybe mental illness.
Suddenly you remember to breathe again and……
there it is.
I no longer fear this wavering.
When it knocks I run to the door in a jubilant spree.
Swinging it open to embrace my old dear friend; my kryptonite.
Painful as it may be it is consistent in forcing my blooms to emerge.
The time for stagnancy is ending.
I feel the pull to embark on all my mind dreams of night after night.
In order to settle you must build a firm foundation being intentionally methodical in the pursuit.
I love Jess.
Right fucking now.
Lost and all …. then again what is lost?
The perseverance, creativity, loyalty, drive, humor, self awareness, spirituality, outlook, love, bravery, flaws and authenticity of this self is so tortuously worth it.
I am strong.
I am loved.
I know I am enough.
Just the lack in me that loves to spit poison as I struggle to break the surface.
“When one door of happiness closes, another opens; but often we look so long at the closed door that we do not see the one which has been opened for us.”