I've been single now for three, possibly four years (but who's counting,right?). My last serious relationship ended, via phone, on what really should probably have been my deathbed in a hospital who's staff turned out to be capable of minor miracles.

Obviously at the time my heart was broken- we were due to be married and we had spoken of starting a family. I was truly and utterly devastated and hated myself immensely for a while.

Over time though, I gradually moved on- through sadness to bitterness to being quite uncaring about the whole business. My heart grew full again. It was never incapable of loving, but my mind refused to give it away fully, and a full heart, I had reasoned for many years, was the only sort worth giving. I have learnt, over the years, to accept this is absolute poppycock. There is no shame in being wary or afraid. There is no harm in gradually giving each piece of my heart, my story, and who I am, over time.

Trust has been a bit of an issue for me, and self-worth even more so. While I'm probably still not quite a fully functioning human being, I think it may be time to at least dip a toe into the lake of love and test the waters.

After all- who knows? Perhaps she's reading this poem right now...