when I was done he wrapped his arms around me:
sweet, he kept saying, I'd never thought of you that way but you are, you are so sweet, you are so sweet.
it felt like he'd discovered it, even though I knew from where.
I didn't feel embarrassed though I do a bit now.
the whole room glowed with the words I told him I liked about myself, the room I made for myself.
the deep respect of knowing myself and sharing, and it being okay.
Seeing home, seeing myself, not alone.
I turned away with wet eyes, not ready for him to know a story yet, or not ready to tell it.
I can't stop thinking of times here where I welled up with feelings,
wells that suck up power and fill with shame.
I don't want to rewrite the anger, here.
I want to fill those old holes with new memories
I want to make those new piles of patterns
I want, I can, I choose.