In the beginning of my second life or was it the third or fourth? I know it will be my last. i swore i would not be broken I would not be angry.

Now – those make up the warm blanket I crawl under, the bath water I soak in, the light that fuels me.

Broken and anger pushed through – worked through to survive

love – because people said it was better that way.
That makes a fool

Not quite though – I feel a tug mostly from behind the eyes at my wrists and ankles, sometimes in my gut

back to kindness – not the outside to others kindness
no need to bring others to this place before their time
I won’t play that role –

Kindness not to show them the tug I feel
in those first morning moments,
sometimes in the breeze that tries to cools the burn in my chest
or in the seconds as i turn my head towards the rustle in the trees in the evening – anticipating the light in the leaves, in the impulsive smile of another
i turn away – only a matter of time before i choose to hide from those too.

those tugs are a personal desire for beauty and glow I feel that tug during the day still but like every other precious thing it’s only a matter of time until that pull is take form us too

Taken from implies i have no responsibility in it, to it, for it – that’s not the whole truth , maybe not even a little truth.