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11/5/08

Breath

What happens to you when you reach the end of what you thought was just a road. A road of travel called a breath. When promises were made and important papers weren't drawn up, because the trust was just that, trust.



What is it about the distates of me that is a repellant far stronger than any on the market. In so many areas I have recovered and am on a different level. My heart and feelings are laying in a field called Out.



I know inside there is a part of me that has the strength to recover but I took to heart and listened to details, I admit, there was some I ignored unintentionally and now I'm like the leaves on the ground. The only thing I'm good for now is compost.



I'll not step past this partition put in front of me I'll not reach across a line that's been drawn. Because not only has this stopped my feet from walking to the right but it has halted the desire to look to the left. This door is closed. This is my last exhale.

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