Drove past the place I first saw you
in what remains our only crossing,
a place I revisited many times
throughout this latest moon cycle,
the place I awaited the supermoon
that never quite crept into my skies,
and a place I will no doubt return to
in case a story still lives in those walls.

But I will not find it today,
for I have come to appreciate a fact of life:
there’s no room for new beginnings
with old endings still leaking out.
I don’t need to be reaching
across any kind of fire
with all these loose threads
still dangling from my arms.

There is a process following trauma,
a healing that must be undergone.
The letting go of let-downs and denials
of heartbreaks and betrayals
of people who will only consume your love.
People like vampires
who will gladly take your life
if you allow them to.

No, all of these toxins must be released from me
before your light can grace my skies again
for there is no other way to let you in pure.
Besides that, I’ve come to understand
that part of the healing process
is learning how to love yourself again,
and that is something I could never do
if I’m already trying to love somebody else.