so much of the life in you has already been reborn.

temperance

seek balance

in all that you do.

your life should be

an equal flow of

give and take.

you should never

be giving the best

of yourself only to

receive crumbs

in return.

put down the anger

you feel for your naiveté,

for believing somebody

who only spoke lies.

it may be the hardest thing

you’ll ever do,

but you have to

forgive yourself.

you didn’t know.

you couldn’t have.

forgive yourself

for being vulnerable,

and for embracing the chance

to fall in love.

i suppose this is some form of grief: the feeling of emptiness after

finally putting something—someone—down.

but my art will still be beautiful.

its freedom from you will make it shine.

so i said

tell me about

the parts of you

that are cracked

and messy

tell me about

the pieces of you

you’ve lost

and can no longer find

tell me about

how they broke you

and how you had

to piece yourself

back together

i want to understand

how you have become

the person you are

i want to know

the reason behind

your barbed wire fences

and towering stone walls

trust me

i will not be scared

i will not run from you

i have known pain

just as you have and

i am not scared

of your wounds

so tell me

all of it

i promise

i will hold your hand

and listen

—i can be patient

there is a sense of equilibrium in my life now that used to be absent. i feel at peace with the way things have fallen into place. i give only to people who give back to me. i am rewarded for my work. i feel appreciated. i feel respected. i feel good about where i am and what i’m doing. for the first time in a long time, i feel like i’m traveling down the right path, and i am aware of the direction i’m headed.

i come back to my hometown

three months after i move away.

everything is the same,

except my father sanded and re-stained

the coffee table, and the living room couch

has gone off to get reupholstered.

but my childhood bedroom looks the same

as it did when i left, albeit cleaner.

there are still books left on the shelves

with dog-eared pages, waiting for me

to pick them back up, never knowing

that i left at all, that i forgot i ever started them.

my cats still recognize my face, something

you don’t worry about until you move

three hours away and only come home on breaks.

they still meow and purr and curl up

into my side at night. my mother still

comes in and lies next to me in bed

and asks me to tell her some things.

so i say, i’m the happiest i’ve ever been,

i finally feel like everything in my life

is working out. i say, mom, i think i’m

in love. i think i may have found the person