Words, today, are like scalpels that I wield to cut out the pain. Sometimes they lay side by side, on the paper, with tears.

I also use them as bandages to hold together the psychic wound. they bind it so it can rejoin, and regenerate.

I am like a keeper of trees with some of my words. I graft them onto the damaged trunk of my brain, through self talk, and they grow and flower into self worth and self love.

Mostly I weave my words into a rope that I throw from me to you. They are my vulnerability, ” I love you ”  They are trust, ” I will be open to you ”  They are courage, ” I will face you ”  They are nurturing, ” I will hold you ”

I used to use words to impress, and baffle others. I was shallow, and far from you. I now use words to make me whole, and safe for you.

Grab onto the rope that I throw, and come closer, and if I don’t throw you a rope, throw me one, I might need it.