Write, Send, Worry

 
I suppose
I was ready for the worst  
 before anything had begun
 
emotionally on edge for years
opening up to you brought me  
over it.
 
I had to process emotions I've kept under the  
 floorboards,
  in the closet, and left
my attempts to cover up  
what I didn't want to face
 
exposed
and left out to dry.
 
They came to me overnight, and I fell apart.  
 
Though,  
I knew in the back of my mind  
you were not the cause,  
only the key.  
 
Anyone could have picked that sorry lock.
 
Forcing me to unpack.
 
          I hate what I find inside.  
 
The lid has come off,  
 the padlock broken and soon forever
 a reminder of what I've tried to hide.