At thirty three, I sit in mourning I am mourning a decade. The time I gave Him. To Him.

Him.

Grieving how the time I spent flooded the gates of my being. How it tore the doors off their hinges Battered the shingles until they started to leak Shattered the glass leaving shards in my path.

Time I spent sweeping up. Hiding them from the world. The secret I shared with myself. Alone. But with Him.

The eggshells I walked upon Were shards all along Small pieces of me Kept broken by Him

At 33 I am building anew Broken pieces, salvaged for foundation My past: the dirt from which I grow anew. Free from him.