Finally, the lock is rusted and broken.
The tears come like a freight train down my cheeks, loud and unstoppable.
Cemented in my heart for what seemed to be always.
Free to flow like a faucet.
Sometimes or most times, they creep up on me.
As they still hide in the dark.
Waiting quietly for the light switch to be flipped on.
Maybe a word, a story, a memory.
a quick and fleeting thought of what I’ve missed, and will always miss.
But it feels good.
Squeaky clean like I’ve just been scrubbed down.
For every train that rumbles down my face,
I feel a little lighter, cleaner, freer.
The closer I let myself get to her,
The light switch becomes easier to reach.
I’m less awkward, less hesitant, less scared.
I allow myself to feel the rumble that has always waited for me in the reflection of my own mirror.