The Artistry of Trapeze

Dear regrets,

I don’t own you. 
I won’t even keep you 
in the garage next to 
the cob web covered 
gas cans. 

I don’t understand how 
people, so many people, 
hang onto you by their 
teeth—like some masterful 
trapeze act–swinging and spinning 
over the audience. 

I need to thank you, 
though-for staying away–
and allowing me to fearlessly
fly without net to become                                                                                                                                             

the woman I am.

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