This is who I am.

You cannot possess me – not even a small part.

I don’t trust myself to let you in.

Not even now, after all these years;

you could betray me, strip away the protection

I’ve been so careful to weave about my heart.

I have no assurance you’ll be here

with tomorrow’s rising sun.

Like so many before you,

goodbye may be your last word,

the slamming of a door your punctuation. 

How do I know you are the one? Different than the rest?

I’ve trusted my heart before; I only have so much courage left.

You have mistaken my confusion for distance,

insisted my need to protect myself is secretive and dishonest;

I've pushed away, hurt by your lack of understanding,

built new walls, torn down bridges, closed off more of my heart.

But there are moments – rare, unexpected moments –  

when I allow myself to love you completely

and I see a possibility of letting my heart spill free…

then suddenly - like lightning on a clear day -

a painful word, a reflection, or a dark morsel of my past

will appear to remind me

of the despair and danger love can bring.

You may be right, and I may one day hate myself

for who I am,

but I am who I am

nonetheless. 

And this is who I am.