One. Two. Three.
I opened my heart and let them come in.
The walls I’d built?
I took them down one brick at a time.
Little pieces of myself – my real self – peeking out
Until finally there was room for someone to step right in.
And I let them in.
One. Two. Three.
And I wish that were the end of the story.
But it’s not.
Because – one by one – they took my bricks, broke them into shards
And threw them at my heart, at my mind.
And it hurt like hell.
The only thing I knew to do was to pick up the pieces –
The shattered hopes of who we were, what we meant –
And I created more walls.
A mosaic of hurt covered by a thick slab of self-preservation.
And I stayed there,
Shut up in my little brick house,
My little brick heart.
My little brick mind.
“I’ll never take them down again,” I said to me.
And I didn’t.
But somehow little cracks of light started peeping in.
I’d patch it back up, only to have it break again.
Over and over again, until one day there was room for someone to step right in.
And she did. And she did, too. And then another.
New One. New Two. New Three.
They took down my bricks from the outside in,
Loving me when I couldn’t, wouldn’t love back.
Flooded with kindness, compassion, faithfulness
I couldn’t, wouldn’t say no.
And friendship found me
When I wasn’t even looking.
I love you.
i love you BIG!