I use to be brave–
in the beginning when I
was softest, not too shy to say
how I feel, before words left
me without balance, before
this mosaic of wounds
before exhaling broken
moments. Regret
sinks like weights in winter
a gravity of grief. Low tide
recedes, abandoning starfish
arms splayed. Shadows
slip away with ghosts
beneath low-hung clouds
stealing wishes I
stutter to say
to myself or you
or anyone
aloud.
2023