Reclaiming Me

I don't write fiction. Life too thick to break out from. Made up characters flat compared to those who have punched me in the gut in life. Punched so hard, so deep it knocked the creative wind out of me. So I can only spew, vent, rage. I hate this version of me.

There was another once. Joyful, loving. In love with you actually. Expansive, generous, giving. All for you. I loved even me then.

I know I say you took that soul away but is it true? Was it me instead of you?

Was it me instead of you who had the capacity to profoundly adore beauty, suck the spirit out of pleasure, enjoy just breathing? Was it me who gave you to power to deflate, ravage, slaughter my soul? If so, I renege on our broken contract of forever and ever; and now vow to try to reclaim the I who is me without you.

I'll admit I don't recall the melody but I still have the words always swirling never stopping in my head. Perhaps if I listen to the earth, the beat of my still thumping heart, the never disappointing spring, I can twist my words to a different tune and regain myself in the process. Perhaps if I just chose to realign my focus I can reclaim me.