The sky looked like a watercolor wash last night when we fled to the water. I say fled because I was at my most unbearably dark dark side darkest. I was tempted to walk in the water in my dress a dress I’d knotted at my knees as it’s long too long a sack a bag to hold a ghost with brick-red flowers. To be told of optimism means to be shamed because where that lies is as empty as what’s under a dress and as easily found as the sand underneath, the bottom of the ocean floor were I to float out beyond the break my dress ballooned up my hair ropes. Meaning there is none. No bottom, at least reachable. But
to deny the dark at this time would be ludicrous. Thank goodness for the sun rises and settings, and the open ocean with its rolling waves and sea spray.
To be honest, if I could just lay down and never move again, I would. I'm done with shit.
gorgeous. hang in there sister. I love you.
to deny the dark at this time would be ludicrous. Thank goodness for the sun rises and settings, and the open ocean with its rolling waves and sea spray.
Stay. Float. Survive the space between dawn and dusk. Give us your poetry. Sorry to be so greedy. Love.
Dark humor is all that saves me in this crazy time!