In pieces, I wake to another day of not quite the same.
These pieces of poetry portray the insecurities of a woman pulling herself free of forever feeling as though she’s wading through tar. It is time to simply walk, one foot after the other towards a new start.
These pieces that I’m shedding are no longer welcome on this path that I am treading.
Every morning when I wake, the pieces have disconnected from me as I’ve finally had a positive night’s sleep.
I feel the burdens slip away under the dawn of a new day.
Some pieces take flight, leaving me entirely. Others rush to stitch themselves back into my skin, clawing their way in.
But every day I wake a piece is gone and I feel the smile on my face broaden.
Good riddance to the pieces that I’ve held on to; to the pieces that told me there could be no peace; to the pieces that told me to overeat; to the pieces that latched on to the black cloud and encouraged its torture . . .
Goodbye and good riddance.
Here’s to the future.