Maybe I am afraid of the healing.
Maybe I spend my nights longing for a change within myself.
And spend my days avoiding it.
What is healing?
So messy, so open.
Why should I open?
So the world can let itself in and take what it wants?
Like it has so many times before.
Why should I unlock the door when I’ve spent years welding it shut?
But then, in a moment,
I am supported.
And I break open,
Naturally spilling myself out onto the pavement.
What is this feeling now?
That I have spent years running from?