Finding joy in little things again,

Like standing in the mirror and looking back at self.

I notice these thin lines on my face. I’m growing.

Flashes of years in my rearview mirror,

Hours of waiting for sunshine now haunt me like darkness;

Run; it says or I’ll swallow you into the deep.

Silence,

Sigh.

Lately, I’m afraid to hear myself.

If I let myself wish, they will fall to the ground

If I let myself think, I may break my own heart.

I can’t echo another sadness.

I will let it fall to the ground,
These broken pieces won’t scare me anymore.
There is a story to be told,
I won’t be afraid to let it unfold.
These dark halls, these crumbling walls,
Maybe they won’t fall to the ground at all.