The Phoenix

I’m not particularly hurt, or broken,

As i would’ve been a year or two ago.

What do I feel, then? Perhaps

Dissatisfaction or

Anger or

Discontentment or

Contempt.

It’s hard to tell.

What I can tell is that

It’s time to let go.

It’s time to let go

Of my ghosts.

Not just you, either.

All of them.

They haunt me and

Wander through my bones

As if they were

The rooms of an abandoned tenement.

It’s time to

Burn bridges and

Let the rain wash away

The ashes.

And from those ashes

I will rise,

Glorious and

Glimmering and

Beautiful.