Love and Hope

I lay in the wounds of my past. Like a weighted blanket, they soothe and stifle me. They are all I know. They keep me safe. Safe from the selfish poisonous traps of mankind for I know them all too well. Where I lay is safe. The memories keep me safe. Remind me not to trust, not to open, not to show, not to love, not to hope. For hope and love, although beautiful, and my heart’s longing, turn the most tender heart to lava. Scorching anything in its path and solidifying when cooled to block out the light. The holiday season is the epitome of hope and love. Forget Valentine’s day, one day of love. December is 31 blissful days of anticipation and magic. Topped off with the most beautiful day of all, New Year’s Eve. Surrounded by the ones you love at midnight, midnight kisses, and promises of a new beginning for all. Must I wait for New Year  in order to begin again? Must I wait until then to shed my calloused layers? To let my heart live on the outside again? What tragedy could possibly happen? If sorrow comes won’t I know how to handle it? I’ve been through it all already. A minuscule voice calls to me, “You must try my dear.” I shall try and live without fear for once, my dear.