Poison

In January, last year, I made a decision
 to cut the toxic people

out

of my life. I thought it would be easy... But it took me a year
 to learn what poison really meant and who they were.

I’m not very good

at grudges, or spite; always forgiving,
 seeing the best in people;

looking for their side of the story.

Although my skin
 is flecked with welts from hurts that came before. And

I trust

with great difficulty. But once
 I hold a hand, I hope it will catch me

if I fall

from great heights,

without a parachute.

Or if I get swept up by a current and lose
 myself under the water.

But last year
 I slipped
 (or maybe I was pushed)
 I fell

and

I just kept on falling.
 It felt like I was
 drowning.

Until it hit me -
 like a train at night -

that some people are only passing through; taking
 in the view from the bridge.

As if, by will, they could make it theirs.

This year, I learnt that to find an antidote,
 first I have to relearn who I was

before the poison.