There is stiffness in my chest as these words write themselves;
As my breathe creates the all too familiar fog on the glass of my windowpane.
These words come from a new place; they pour from me like honey.
Smoothed, pure, untouched; uncomplicated, unrehearsed, untainted.
The sensation; like a hollowness; not being filled but, being felt with acceptance.
My fingertips sway across these keys, in time to the beating of this broken heart.
This soul carries on to the predictible;
The changes in the weather,
The five cups of coffee,
The mind-numbing analysis,
The everyday mundane actions.
Sleeping at dawn,
living at dusk and tea and cakes when I’m feeling blue.
It’s just a routine.
A facade of monotny to keep my heart at bay.
My mind numb to the sting of remembrance...


So, what now?
I guess I’ll just drink another cup and wish that I knew how this will all pan out.
*I guess we will see... Won't we?