New Start, Who's This? - A Poem

Note from Chickadee: On occasion I will post pieces of original poetry. This is one such time. Written about a year ago, this particular piece has been on my mind as I prepare for my move in two weeks. 

 

New Start, Who's This?

There’s a lake surrounded by oaks and maples, the water lapping at a rough sand beach, and I-

Wait. I’ve told this story before.

I’m standing in a parking lot and thinking of how far it’ll take to get to-

Nope, you’ve heard that one too.

I’ve spent so much time peeling off pieces of myself for you to sink your teeth into, I’ve forgotten what piece goes where, which piece was meant to do what. It’s all a mess now on the coffee table in front of me, and I have this insane urge to just set the whole pile on fire and call it a day. I don’t want to see what this puzzle looks like when it’s put back together. I don’t think I liked it very much.

This is the first time I’ve looked in a mirror since we started this game of give and take. Did I always look this fragile, this jagged, this exhausted? Have my bones always fit together like one wrong move will send them all crumbling? I could have sworn there was a time I was invincible, but I blinked and suddenly I was just human again.

Did I tell you I unpacked my getaway bag? I put the change of clothes back in my dresser, spent the cash I had hidden on some decorative pillows. At night when I turn out the light I stopped dreaming of running. I’m tired of living with one foot out the door. I don’t want to keep living with one foot out the door.

Let me start again.

There’s a blank notebook sitting on my kitchen counter. I’ve been so afraid to choose an ink for fear it will bleed through the pages or my writing will smudge or I’ll hate what I write. But pink looks beautiful on the lined pages.