Oh! With such ease, these barehands bruise,

Affection’s like a glove.

As like to fit as it’s to lose,

I’m nervous now, in love.

It was hard, learning how to be in a healthy relationship, learning how to be vulnerable again when all I wanted to do was protect myself. Starved for affection while being terrified of it, worried of being hurt, or hurting a new person who truly cared about me and was only trying to help. For a long time, small things- normal things, normal healthy conversations, made me absolutely panic and cry, retreat. I still startle so easily. When I wrote this poem last spring, I was still so nervous in love. It’s been a journey to find stable footing, and I still stumble occasionally.

© Aimee Wood 2022