i am trying to explain flashbacks to you without sounding ludicrous.
it doesn’t matter this was years ago.
it doesn’t matter that it could have been worse.
the terror lies partly in those coulds,
the insidious possibilities that stole my safety from me.
i don’t know how to explain that i know it’s not helpful.
my panic. my overabundance of caution.
the gnawing reminder that the security of home is merely
i am trying to imagine your response when i tell you
i hold these flashbacks in one hand and positivity in another.
these new traits that cracked my soul and let empathy out.
these memories that finetuned the strings of my street-smarts.
the warning bells might never go away.
and i’m trying to envision how you might
love that part of me too.