It hurts sometimes

This wrenching heart-opening

It cracks ribs

It exposes me

My heart

That delicate fluttering, this… vulnerability

 

It shouldn’t hurt, he says

Why? Why does it hurt?

Embrace it, he says.

Turn towards it.

What the fuck’s wrong with you?

 

Thank you, I say.  Sorry.

But that’s not right either.

That’s weak.

Man up, he says, with his piercing blue eyes.

You’re better than this.

 

That’s not the end.

It’s not the beginning.

It’s definitely not the best part.

And definitely not the worst.

 

The best part was ahi

And a man that hugs like a tree

Sometimes.

And boiling waters below

And mighty waves above,

Smashing against the cliffs.

 

To not being smashed.

To magical waterfalls

And peace.

 

And friends that FaceTime

To exes that remain present,

Who support when everything else feels like it’s falling down.

To sobriety.  To being strong.

But not so strong I can’t be touched.

 

To self care.  And learning.

To being alone.  To standing up.

 

And love.  Love.  Open to love, but not needing.

To openness, to be kind. To caring, and being cared for.  To all of it, but needing none of it.

To caviar.

[The hat says “It’s a good life”!]