Vulnerable.

Laden with grief, I let my tears fall unabashedly.

Salty, yet sweet, the physical manifestation of my sorrows.

I can no longer pretend, can no longer hide from what plagues my soul.

At the same time I yearn to forget, I ache to remember. 

To reflect on lessons only struggle could teach

I pour salt into the wounds, the pain ripe and visceral, 

yet cleansing all the same. 

We  spend our whole lives afraid of our shadows, 

so desperate to keep the skeletons in our closets tucked safely away.

What if…

What if we dared to flirt with the darkness within? 

Toe the line between blissful ignorance and willful surrender?

By giving into the pain, are we letting it win?

To think like this is to suggest life as we know it, is nothing more than a game

A game in which we, the pawns, passively exist.  

Happiness cannot thrive without its antithesis.