It felt wrong.
The kind of wrong my mama warned me about.
She would sip her black coffee, look over her glasses and tell me
she would tell me what was right and what was wrong.

I think I forgot for awhile.
I forgot long enough to do some things wrong.

It felt wrong, but worth it.
So worth it.
Worth the changes I don't seem to mind

I don't mind my trembling hands
or the way I can't focus  
the way I flash back to that night
where the sky was deep purple
where the crisp breeze of winter was beginning to roll in
I flash back to the cloud of smoke rising from my lips
I flash back later to your hands on my hips and the pain.
the pain that was so unfamiliar yet so welcomed.