Poetry

Hot Knife

Your memory moves through me like a hot knife on cold butter

Melting the hardness as it goes and

I know

you’re here again to make it all better

The champion of my strength and encourager of my softness from those days before I was fully formed has come home. 

You roam through the hallways of my mind

the guide 

for my own hand to pick up that hot knife myself and cut through the solid surrounding me

Freeing that tenderness that needs to be seen

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