Apparently, two years ago today
I bought a home.

I lived in the same house for
twenty-six years
eight months
four weeks
and one day.
Let’s just say
I was ready
for some freedom.

I thought having my own place
would fix me.

It crushed me instead.

I never realized a dream could betray you.
I thought cheating was something only
humans could do.

You’d be surprised how different you can feel
with a little bit of time,
a moment of blind faith,
and a fresh coat of paint.

How many times
are you going to smash your face
before you realize
you can't walk through
a closed door?

I am the last step before you reach the end of the staircase,
the one you push against to climb to the top.
The grime from the bottom of your shoe leaves me filthy and dark.
Sometimes, your weight is so heavy that I crack.
I am the one for which you aren’t ready,
the one you trip over but are too insecure to fall for.
I am the one who makes you want to be better
(even though I never asked you to be),
just not yet.
I am the crutch you use to pick yourself up
from the broken bones that haven’t quite healed,
the bandage that holds your wounds together until you are restored.
I am the sandpaper that scrapes away pieces of myself
until you are left smooth.
I am the rough side of the matchbox, the one you strike to create the flame.
I am just a girl you used to know.
A meaningless,
distant,
forgotten
memory.

But I am also the phoenix,
not the ashes.

The problem
with learning how to
repeatedly
"put yourself out there"
is also having to learn
how to
repeatedly
get disappointed.

That name still stings
when it reaches my ears
like the bite of a snake
whose venom is slowly
slithering its way
through my bloodstream,
venturing to each limb,
each digit,
each piece of me,
until suddenly,
completely,
and unwillingly,
I'm paralyzed.

Time is a devious creature.
With every passing year
I am smothered by the legitimacy
of the idea that
the older you get,
the faster time flies;
Yet,
paradoxically
I feel my life move at a snail’s pace.
It’s getting increasingly difficult
to remember that
God’s silence
does not mean
God’s absence,
but here I am,
folding my hands anyway,
because if there is any chance
something better is on the horizon,
you better believe I want to be here
to see it,
and even further…
I want to feel it.