i'd like to think that death is like love.
"to love is to rest," they say.
"to die is to sleep," is what i hope for.
i've been alive a long time. pain has dulled to an optimistic distillation.
but then there are those nights. alone, aching with love i cannot share. alone and abandoned to thoughts of "otherwise" or "elsewhere."
alone. alone. alone.
and afraid.
(i've been dead a long time. the pain never really goes away.)