The mind is so complicated. A memory returns in a flash and you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that in that remembered moment your heart was pierced deeply and the wound is still healing decades later. Sometimes the healing does hurt more than the original wound.
anger simmers like a pot on the stove; threatening to explode while silent and steaming.
turn up the heat just a bit and you will be burned, so steer clear and gently tilt the lid letting the pot release some pressure.
still the anger simmers; ready to bubble over and make a mess. so, you inch away but not before inhaling the aroma of contempt and blame.
you believe you have made the mess. if the pot explodes it will be your fault; and so, you control the temperature as best you can with your tiny hands.
hands thrust inside too big oven mitts that swallow them like boxing gloves. as time goes by your hands will grow into them, but they will always feel clumsy.
never allowed to take a healthy swing, you punch the air like windmills spinning in the wind.
the circle continues on. the steam releases ever so slightly, but still the anger simmers like a pot on the stove.
photo from here