learning to breathe

my heart fears loving someone with kind eyes

my body fears being touched by rough hands


my mind is clouded with fear of what was

because what was is not what will be


I thought he was the sun

but he was merely someone

someone with lost petals


I walked through a garden of thorns

instead of a garden with roses


his roaming hand felt like a bee sting

and I am afraid of bees

this love was soft on the surface

but painful to the core


I feared all of what was

and I was left breathless

but now I am breathing for what will be


I am learning to let go

in order to grow


thorns used to pierce my skin

but now I am careful when choosing

which gardens I walk through


This poem is about: 


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