One day you love someone.
One day you don’t know how you’re going to go on not having them in your life.
One day you think of them, and love overtakes you in waves.
And you cry.
And then you cry.
You cry for hours.

And then one day you don’t feel like that at all.
And you try to figure out why, and there is no reason.
You wonder what has changed, and nothing has.
Then you wonder if you ever really had those feelings at all.
And you did.
But they’re gone now.

And you realize you’re beyond it.
Finally.
And you look up at the light, because now there is light.
And you feel safe to reclaim some bit of peace.
Finally.

I had so very little of him.
And I was so deep in him.
I fell deep.
And maybe I haven’t found anyone else,
Because there can’t be anyone else.
God I hope that’s not true.
How can someone still own so much of your heart after so long?
If I could have him excised, I would.
Would I?

She’s the backbone
Of the entire construct
Of my life
What will I do
When she is gone?
I’ll want it back
This life’s construct
Even as much as I hate it now
I’ll want it back
Now, I choke on my words
I choke and I die
A little more every day
The living death
What will I do
When she is gone
I won’t have to choke
Any longer?
Will I want it back?
Oh God
I hope not
I hope I can live
Without remorse
Without regret
But I know
That simply won’t be possible
Still and always
The living death
Until I am dead,
Too.

Speckles of hope
Overlay doubt
Arms full out
In wide open circles
As if holding bushels of wildflowers
But there’s nothing there
Stay Open

In the now, I feel defeated.
Yet, I find myself searching for a landing place.
That’s hope, alive.
I will have a place to call home when this season has passed.
I will have control over my own life.
I will have my bead store.
I will have my writing.
I will have my life back.
I will be free.

I have lost my way. Again.
Not into addiction. Not that. Again.
Back into the Pain.
The Pain so strong it consumes with the cold hardness of titanium.
Pushing me out from the inside.
Making it impossible to breath.
This is the living death.
It comes sometimes expected and sometimes unexpected.
This time, it was inevitable.
My mother dying, this pandemic and all.
It doesn’t last.
So that’s one thing.

When I think of a time in my life, I see colors.
My time with Dale is deep pink, bordering red.
Like sunset pink followed by a blood moon.
Like the inside of me, my essence, my life.
Like the full surrender of love, with full return.
Exquisite.
Timeless.
Pivotal.
Affirming.
Bliss.