Tiptoeing was ingrained in me.
I knew how to be there without being there actually.
My gait became a series of advances that might have taken me down,
had you not been there to pull me out.
Made me see that I'm not really alone.
It was just that I had turned my heart into a drop zone.
Allowed others to make me me cold.
Now I'm stomping, don't care who knows.
These steps will take me anywhere I care to go.
As long as I don't slow myself down,
trying to hide from heartache.
I'll always keep stepping up, and I'll never let them see me drown.
I am a mother first, but without these words I spill, I cannot breathe. I am me in my words. No matter who you think I am or what truths you choose to believe. Getting out what I keep inside produces my oxygen, which keeps me alive. If you read these thoughts of mine, please do so with a little rhyme, because while I may seem remedial and soft spoken my heart is one that will never again be broken.
View more posts