Today I reach inside

myself for comfort and I’m alarmed.

I’m finding less and less in there. Is

it evaporation? or am I learning

better ways to hide from myself? I have

made rules that shut some doors

and opened others, but now I’m

becoming obsessed with the locked ones.

Doors I locked myself.

Rooms I filled myself, box by box.

I packed the boxes,

I know their contents.

It’s the locks that scare me.

by Cher Bibler