Pocket Full of Hurt

It hit me today.

I had been carrying it around with me everyday. Every slight, every hurful word.

I took them in little pieces and put them in my soul's pocket.
Pushing each on top of the other.

I laid them one on top of the other until there wasn't room for one more hurt.
With each passing day those small pieces began to feel like heavy ones.
And today my pockets are full. No room left to carry not even one more.

I sobbed as those tiny pieces left me. Carrying with them my desire for him. I did not want his friendship. I want to retreat to the hour before I met him, so I could be free.

No more pieces no more pockets full of my flaws seen through his eyes.

No more pockets full of hurt.