If we can restore vibrancy to color stripping layers of time to render art new then can we lift sound particles from memories laid down decades before dab a pen over words slandering our hearts eliminate critical noises that chastise til all we recognize is a blank slate of static where WE select rhythm and pace
compliments feeding our lives' diorama
beliefs entangled between heartbeats
we become the artist the symphony playing remastered tunes
Stay Strong You are Valuable And, most importantly,
You Deserve to be Loved
If we can challenge old thoughts that debilitate our efforts and rewind time's old cassette tape to the very beginning, what dreams might we record, what promises to ourselves might we keep? BE KIND TO YOUR MIND
she handles memories like a crime scene, each shared photograph shows a clue - oil stains on armchairs, misplaced magazines she’d mistake a sob of despair for laughter, love for pity. every remembrance she mars with red ink, as if to tell her side of a story that never existed.
the inner voice whispers, "tell them you're struggling." my vocal cords are warmed up, ready to give life to the words. but the hand over my mouth is an impermeable barrier set by the critical voice that is fueled by fear.