There are some things we don't talk about.
Like a ripped out page,
we pretend it doesn't exist.
Deleted from our memory files,
and thrown away into the bottomless unknown.
We do this because we are scared.
That chapter of our life leaves a taste
that's bitter and sour.
Like rotting lemon peels on the tongue.
Our face twists and our hands
search for the nearest drink.
I will not share my own experience,
for it's somewhere at the bottom of a trench.
(I tossed it into the ocean when I was twelve.)
But I want to let you know, that it's okay—
it's okay to lock up a time frame of your life
into a little safe and light it on fire.
Ignite it and let it burn because
sometimes we're better off
not reading that chapter aloud.