Pushing 40 in a dry spell. Supposed to be in my prime. I’m a mom of perfectly imperfect loving souls. I’m the good cop and the bad guy. I’m the grey gal sneaking out at night. Put your hand on mine and hold me. ‘Cause I feel so alone some of the time. Heaviness. Makes it so hard to breathe.

Where has my Joy gone? She left me years ago. I wonder what she’s doing now. I heard from a mutual friend that she’s still in town, but she doesn’t come around… too often anymore. Maybe it’s because… around me… she can’t breathe.

Who am I? The me that is… pre- or post- orgasm? Are they the same woman? If I don’t cum can I show you who I am? I knew it was over when you didn’t kiss me. But I couldn’t kiss you either. I had to win. So our lips only slid across the surface. As if calling, “Who’s gonna go the last 10%?” Neither of us could do it. My heart stopped and I could barely breathe.

They can’t hold me back. They’ve not got the right. My faith is greater than their degradation. I’m being seasoned… put on fire. Seek those who lift us up. Step out of comfort and into the light. Surround ourselves with love. Clear up the present from a murky past. Take a breath of fresh air. Smile. As you open the door, “Hello, Joy.”