I am buried beneath the fear of my own failure.
I gaze at the bird sing as she is falling.
I tell you my secrets, though I do not know what they are, only that they are veiled behind my shame.
I want the wall to move, but I dare not touch it.
The door is far too wide, and the mess behind it far too thick.
I cannot recognize my own hands anymore, the rough texture startles me.
I hold myself, bringing my knees to my chest.
I remember what it was like when I’d rest my head on your breast.
You would softly whisper that this is only a season, this too will go away.
That this is not our forever home, but Earth is our temporary stay.
This poem is about: