waiting to live

God damn it all. Again

I curse myself for being fragile,

For being open,

For laying my heart out

Knowing it will be trampled

Over and over and over.

And then the recoil,

The blanket of emptiness

That wraps me as the dust settles.

Once the bleeding has stopped,

Again I ask myself

If it could ever be worth it.

I know the answer.

But it hasn’t gotten much easier,

27 years and counting,

Still as foolish as ever.