therapy

on my first day

my therapist told me

to open my heart

so i closed it shut

and locked it away

and threw away the key

and she caught it

right in the middle of her palm

without me ever noticing

my therapist told me

to accept one thing—

that our pasts are a part of us

we carry them on our backs

and let them weigh us down

and even when dreams lift us up

it will be with the pressure

of our fears and sins

i cried

until my eyes burned

with the force of it

my therapist told me

there is beauty in the abstract

and the fearsome

and in the ugliness of our walls

there are crevices so smooth

to the touch, like

blissful sweeping velvet

against her fingers

my therapist

is fucking crazy

isn’t she?

my therapist asked me

when i started to see myself

the way a bully would

and i did not have an answer

to grant her

my therapist played

clarinet, drums, trumpet, and trombone

in her high school band

i don’t remember

when she told me that

but i do know it’s true

my therapist asked me

why i fear the truth

i responded in turn

“i can’t handle the truth”

sure you can, she replied

i’ll help you

once, my therapist told me

it was okay

to take a moment

and breathe

and i felt like

i was given permission to feel

to let my pounding heart rest

to allow my mind to stop

its continual torture, if only for a moment

and i felt alive

and okay

for the first time

in a long time

my therapist once told me

that redemption was possible

and that anything was possible

for me

i laughed at my screen

with the power of my thoughts

and of my hatred

yet now

i wonder

i do wonder