The other day, I wrote about you, quiet words just for me. My journal is heavy with the weight of thousands upon thousands of quiet words. And loud words. And sweet ones. Angry ones. Violent ones. Broken ones.
I couldn’t remember your name.
It was a shock. A physical shock. I felt it in the pit of my stomach. A kind of panic.
I was still for a few moments, probing around the inside of … [...more]
There are those relationships whose influence lasts long after they are over and often for longer than they were alive. Intensity, unfathomable joy, bright starbursts, out-of-control fireworks, terrible pain. Remnants that are still sharp if I pay attention. The tail of the comet is often brighter than the flare of its reality.
He wrote. Words about me. Always his words: strange, and powerful, skirting around the edges of his wild imagination, some truth at their … [...more]