I’m nostalgic for a past
that never actually existed
in the way I had myself convinced.
Six-year-old me thought I was safe
because it was familiar, but
she was never safe there, not really.
It’s taken decades to find a place
where there’s no double meanings—
no veiled threats under compliments here.
I reach out my hand, it’s bigger now,
and show my little self around,
“it’s okay to be scared”, I say,
“We’re all we have,
but that’s enough.”