From Painful Places

It’s not cathartic, at first,

this opening up, this outpouring.

It fill up with all the

scabs, blood, pus, and bile

of life’s blows to your mind,

to your body,

to your soul.

It reopens wounds and

unlocks memories,

but to not release it

turns you

into a dark alley in a deserted place,

forlorn and forgotten,

trash-filled and filthy.

But either way,

you’re empty.