Open Door

I am doing much better now. 

I don't even remember your name most days.

My number isn't the same, nor is the body you once touched. 

These days, I wake up and crisp sun rays beams me up.

The tree that I planted does me a favor by growing a bit more, time after time. 

The weeds I didn't plant are an ever-present reminder that this growth was never meant to be comfortable but necessary.

The birds that politely leap away upon my obtrusive arrival don't flee as quickly as they used did. 

Sometimes, the things, the people, the moments that leave make you appreciate all that never does. 

Strangers sit beside me like I am their latest muse.

They tell me they've met ones they can't seem to grow away from.  

With every moment's silence, I receive them with their every stroke, every word, every heartbeat in between. 

Scurrying away as if seen too soon, undressed and indecent for an unexpected guest, they are eased by a simple smile and an omnipresent ear.

Hurt hearts see one another better in healed light. Sometimes, it's easier to not know the why. 

Just knowing that you are happier will suffice. Even if it's just trying to be. It is enough.

If there's a stranger or two along the way, company after dark days couldn't hurt. 

These days, even the dirt has a glint I'm curious to know. It has held me up all this time. It must know a thing or two about the strangeness in me.