Trying Again

I've grown tired of dwelling in the past,
of carrying vacancies, empty seats, and sorrow.
Always conscious of what didn't last,
of how far away I've had to go.

The narrative to these connections failed,
left me alone, and wondering at purpose.
Without loyalty, distance prevailed,
without love, there's no room for trust.

But I can build my own family,
decorate my mighty walls with memories.
With enough time Ill feel fabled security,
with enough tenderness, Ill give away keys.

Time moves on, pressing ever forwards,
easing me out of my childhood.
Now I speak with a young man's words,
no longer standing where I stood.

I am a writer, painter, musician, and protector,
no longer apologizing for what I couldn't be.
What is gone is cold, and toxic, still bitter;
what is coming, is warm, faithful, and happy.
Its time to try again.