Vanity

I often worry that i do you more harm than good.

The idea of causing you pain, causes me pain.

I sit with that pain, i breath.

I write to you.

I worry my words are not enough. I am scared.

I am deeply troubled. I am not at peace. I want to run away.

I love to sit with my pain and be mindful of it.

It brings me back to you.

I worry about needing you. I worry about holding onto you.

I remember you are me. And i am nothing.

I hear a bird outside. I am no longer scared.

I sit and breath. I write to you.