slow to open up, primed to bloom
this sanctuary became a tomb for my past self lingering as he does
whispering words of discouragement in his inside voice
as i stretch over him to maneuver into me
noticing he was lighter than he seemed
we made eye contact as i shed and he relented with a warning
that i was the one intent on the interlock
‘let me let this go’
i whispered before i yelled when previously i had it written down and folded behind my ear
steeping for longer than it should
nurturing what was previously a wound
into a blemish took the most patience
and the exhale reconfigured me