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.