it’s been a while. I haven’t missed the old you that much. but sometimes I miss the old me. the one that was so hopeful and trusting. the one who believed you were someone good and that I could be too. the one who found comfort in praying, but the silence got too big and I guess I stopped caring about what you think. I realized my relationship with you was more about my need to please them.
and we all know I’m no good at that.
sometimes I still find myself on my knees…in the sand. in the dirt. on the floor at the edge of his bed. these are the only prayers I have left.
from my third poetry book, Made of Earth.