A Time for Ahh. A Time for Release.

Why do we say Ow when we're hurt?
Why not Eep, or Ack, or Ooh, or Ahh?
Last night, I dreamt I scrolled back—
six years deep—to your first message

after we became friends again.
All it said was:
"Deleted by Sender. Negative Content."
And I didn’t flinch, didn’t sting—
not even in my sleep did I say Ow.

For anything you might’ve said
felt justified.
You could’ve made me
chew gum from your shoe,
press a boot to my chest,
take a fistful of my hair—
and I’d look up, wide-eyed,
thinking: Yeah... fair enough.

But in real life, six years ago, you didn’t.
What you did was wilder than anything
my dreaming brain could invent:

You just loved me.
You opened the door
like you’d been waiting,
like I’d never left.

And maybe back then,
I didn’t say Ow—
maybe that was a moment
for Ahh.