40 Days, 40 Nights

Cold weather.

Cuddling.

Cuffing season.

But…

Self-reflection has always been lusts arch-nemesis.

She’s staring hard, 

but what happened to the last one who gave Medusa’s gaze?

By not holding myself accountable to heal, 

I subconsciously gave myself permission to wound others.

Like Popeye,

I am what I am. 

That’s why I am where I am.

Used to grab a heart and scam when I can.

Now it’s penance until eureka,

Meaningful relationships, 

Not the flash in the pan.

It feels like a long road ahead,

Jagged rocks, 

Blistering sun,

And I’m strolling barefoot.

No shade from trees. 

No sips from streams.

No food from seeds.

Just barren lands for my thoughts input.

A journey, indeed.

Necessity, it seems.

As the story was told,

I’d have to cross the desert to be free.