My Heart Remains Open
Even if it hurts. Even when I’m scared. Even if it’s temporary.
It’s been a while since I’ve written a poem despite poetry being my first foray into writing. I can still remember penning a poem about my first high school crush, pouring all of my feelings onto the page. So much angst, so little awareness of love and relationships. And hating every second of not knowing what would occur next with the elusive “us.”
I’ve always struggled with the unknown. Whether that was waiting for another to reveal his feelings for me or to solidify our romantic relationship, I felt a loss of control as a relationship developed. Losing control felt like leaving my heart in someone else’s hands, and I feared being crushed more than I fear flying cockroaches and bees. Often, that very fear propelled me to make an impulsive decision: to fight or to fly.
To “fight” often looked like this: speak up (maybe a little too aggressively) and exert my power (ok, very aggressively) and not take no answer for an answer (I cringe just typing this).
To “fly” often looked like this: block his number as tears and snot merged into one while I swore off men forever. (I was a hot ass mess.)
Today, I take a different approach, resisting the defense mechanism that so desperately desires to shield me from any more pain. Today, as a 44-year-old well-rounded, dynamic, emotionally intelligent, and confident and faithful woman, I choose to meditate instead of spiral, to journal and write instead of react and reject. To dance and sing and laugh and play because there is so much good in life. I take in the lessons of the connections that have come into my life and that sometimes exist as unexpectedly as they showed up. I remain open to what God provides, whether that is someone new entirely or the same person at a different moment in time. And through it all, I focus on loving myself more, developing my intuition and continuing to grow confidently in my womanhood, in using my discernment, and in being my most authentic self always and in all ways.
Through it all, my heart remains open. Open to love, to heartache, to confusion and pain. To not knowing a damn thing about anything except what I desire and what I truly deserve.
My Heart Remains Open
My heart
remains open
as a way of saying,
“Fuck you,”
to loss and pain,
to breaks and betrayal,
to deep-seated abandonment trauma
that spirals
out of my control
in real time
whenever my mind
creates narratives of rejection
from the misinterpretation
of words,
energy,
and body language.
Any shift in behavior
under a microscope,
my intuition dissecting
every conversation and caress,
as a form of protection.
Only it’s not my third eye that
jumps to conclusions,
making assumptions
about intentions.
It’s fear and anxiety,
my inner child crying,
afraid to feel more
loss and pain,
breaks and betrayal.
Trying to release
the deep-seated abandonment trauma
that is triggered
when anyone leaves,
asks for space,
even when it’s not about me.
A fear that I heal
with every connection,
every kiss and ecstatic penetration,
every vagina-clenching,
pulsating orgasm
as you thrust inside of me
with your sexual prowess
and a hard erection.
I lay naked,
my heart remaining open
as she whispers,
“I want more…”
Love.
Intimacy.
Connection,
You.
Me.
Us.
Even if it hurts.
Even when I’m scared.
Even if it’s temporary.