When they say, ‘Open up!’ what I see is the picture of my heart running like a wild goose in a jungle of confusion. It often steps in a puddle of familiarity but slowly, that very puddle begins to wet its feathers in droplets of shame. How could I’ve been so reckless? Did they really need to know that? So on and so forth, goes the troubled web spun by my mind. It’s hard to breathe with the weight of my insignificant over-shared life. I’m a generous listener but not a generous talker and this often puts people in a motion of self-doubt but they’re really not at fault here.
When they say, ‘Open up, you owe it to us after all this time!!’, what I hear is a call for a reason to hold on. Sometimes, it even rains like a warning over my bare head, the drops tapping on my mind to make the move. I still contemplate trust like a child toying with food until it turns cold, sour and hard to penetrate. I’m still the insecure six year old who never grew up, don’t you get it?
When they say, ‘Open up, it’s your last chance’ I hear yet another reason to strike off a name and turn goodbyes into an untitled poem.
