When I turn 40

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40 will be declared the, "Decade of Mastery!"

My sassiness will be untamed along with my hair.

I will let curls go unchecked while I twirl in the rain.

Painful scars will no longer guard against the possible joy of each day.

People can talk and feel any which way, 

it won't affect me. 

Mastery.  

The ghosts that have haunted my inner thoughts will be thrown out

I will finally be a friend to me.

Hopes and dreams from childhood will be exchanged for

the result of choices I've made.

I will celebrate them.

Alone I know what I did. 

In solitary confidence I will celebrate.

This body is strong.  

This spirit is too.  

We rejoice its mastery.

I see you now

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I wasn't wise when you first came around.

I gave too much.

Talked a lot.

Blindly feeding you my secrets.

You ate them up. 

Then you rolled over.  

Your cold shoulder was sharp. 

It cleaved through my exposed heart.

Clutching it I held it out to you. 

Exposed and scared about what it meant 

You laughed and made other plans.  

  

Lone moon hung in the sky

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That lone moon hung in the sky.  

Darkness fell all around. 

Grass, tickled by the light wind, gave way.  

I sat there.  

Watching moon beams slice the night.

They didn't touch me.  

Only the single cool breeze sat with me.  

Together we agreed to solidarity.

Love leaves.  

Scratching and pulling like those moonbeams against the grass.

We all have scars when it departs.

The moon shrugged nodding toward the stars.  

The wind and I agreed acknowledging ours. 

Letting go is hard.  

In a single angry puff the wind whipped through the field

chasing his heart.

I look to the moon to feel less alone.

It is too late.

She has pulled a blanket of clouds shielding her face.

Tears fall as abundant as the grass in the field.  

Letting go.