Sunshine

I told somebody something personal.
I’m working on it. I’m surviving. Somehow, I’m getting better. I’m healing. I’ve bitten the dust and gotten back up. I am alive.
I have no regrets; only a past spattered with shotgun shells. Light shines holes in my heart like stained glass. Slowly my lungs fill with air; I can breathe tonight.
Don’t ask me about tomorrow.