The day I wrote this next poem, I started writing this post. I have written many drafts. Each version filled with anger, confusion, a little dash of denial, splash of oversharing. Primarily defeat. I thought by releasing The Essence and the Detail , I had said all I needed to say about the people and events of the past few years. But I guess not. Funny thing how we think we can just shut our eyes and keep out the blaring light. It's difficult to tell a story without actually giving specifics, I'll tell you that. This next one is about a relationship I experienced a few years ago, while I was inside the relationship, I was screaming to get out, but did not know how to. I forged characters in my poetry in an attempt to say it out loud, but I failed miserably. And though years have since past, it doesn't get any easier to speak up. To say that, however, is to form a paradox from the poem itself. Freedom can mean many things. For me, to have been freed meant I was back at the