when I was a short fuse,
unreliable, temperamental tot
I fell to my knees on some
newly laid, rigid
carpet.

I felt much the same, only grittier
and low.

it was a frenzy.

hyperventilation,
then screaming until my throat was no more than
a puddle of gall.

my fists met my own face
with a tragedy to lace
and my arms, nearly severed
were later held together
by those left
who felt me
intimately.

when I was set fire,
explosive, hazardous harlot
I fell apart
naked, bruised and exposing
my wrongs.

I felt much the same, my love damaged
and loose.

it was a frenzy;


Ignited,
I still managed to find a breath
between
mouthfuls of cinder.

and now,
I can inhale
the beauty in stability.