Since You Entered My Life

Since you entered my life, everything has changed. And I can’t tell if it’s for better or for worse.

The feelings you evoke dig down deep into my hard, encased center.

Your gentle words create long, jagged fractures, letting the wounds of the past, the feelings of the present and the hopes and fears for the future escape.

You make me feel again, and a part of me can’t forgive you for that.

I’ve created a safe life for myself, every part contained, controlled. Predictable.

You’re like a messy painting, or a loud rock song, or a summer lighting storm. You make everything full of color, and sound, and fire.

I try desperately to close the fractures, guard my heart, and then you come with your sledgehammer of kisses and soft words of love and undo it all.

It’s like my heart is made of tissue paper that you tear open so easily. The contents spilling out into your lovely hands, your sensual mouth and strong arms.

You don’t want the bloody, ruined mess underneath. I promise you that. You need to walk away, because I can’t. I know I should.

I really should.

And then you flash your dimpled smile, your eyes alight with unspoken things, things I tell myself no longer exist for me, but my feet are stuck, unable to run.

From you.

Enslaved in the promise of you, of the light shining in your soul. It calls to me, haunting me, slowly healing me.

Since you entered my life…