when my world came crashing down,

i came running into your arms.

i was like a little girl after she’d just fallen off a bright pink bike.

confused about how something she loved so much could hurt her.

she wondered how she could ever feel safe riding her bike again.

that was how i felt about friendships.

all my life i was a clay pot;

constantly spinning on a potter’s wheel.

i felt the need to bend and shape and curve to fit someone else’s needs.

but, i noticed that even in my broken state,

when i had split like cracked porcelain, 

in your arms, i fit perfectly.

i had never fit perfectly before.

soon i told someone else.

someone who you trusted dearly.

i learned to find solace in telling people how i felt.

i learned to love being with people.

i learned to be happy with myself where i was.

i learned, slowly,  to live once again

i learned to stop bending and shaping and 

curving myself to fit other’s needs.

we had begun to feel like family.

a beautiful triad of clay pots, 

one green, one red, and one light brown,

that compliment one another entirely.