Last night I dreamt that I gave myself to you,
not out of force,
but out of choice;
I enjoyed myself with you for the first time.
Upon reflection,
I'm not sure if I've ever fully given myself to someone.
I am much more comfortable living in my head than living in the moment,
for feeling present requires a level of trust that one can be vulnerable and still be loved.
The past has taught me that being loved is conditional and depends upon how neatly I can package up my emotions;
I am no longer a gift if my wrapping paper is torn and my bow is slightly lopsided.
So,
I keep my folds precise,
my knots exact,
and my patterns exuberant and lively.
Luckily,
most don't care to unwrap me,
allowing me to store my feelings of
jealousy,
anger,
and depression
within the box beneath the paper,
securely sealed with tape,
of course.
Right now,
I am undergoing the tedious task of peeling off the tape,
so that one day,
when someone chooses to unwrap the present,
the box won't be held so tightly shut.
My hope is that I will learn to authentically and fearlessly give so that,
when gentle, sturdy hands open the gift,
something magical can happen.
YOU ARE READING
Introspection: Poems by a Ruminator
PoetryWhen hardship is experienced, it is only human of us to think on the past. Sometimes though, we end up in a cycle of rumination, reliving events that cannot be changed; we become depressed in our memories. Writing can be therapeutic, so here is a co...
