Guardrails

I am my own worst enemy.

The nemesis in the mirror.

You dont have to torture me because I already do.

I have practiced this reckoning

a lifetime ago, sharpening silence

to a blade I know how to hold and let go.

So when a man arrives

with lantern eyes

eager to search my attic,

better yet— expose its shadows,

I brace for spill and poison.

Because love, pure as it is,

can magnify the ugly,

whisper doubt

that cracks my porcelain frame.

Better to keep the door half-closed,

and let those winters stay mine,

than invite a tender hand to

suffer injuries from the

shards of my reflection.