So, today tastes like bitter over-salted grief.
It sounds like sad, angsty, painful melodies.
Today smells like grey.And tomorrow will feel like goodbye.
By everyday will be a series of see you soon’s and why can’t I find you’s.
Intimacy comes in a variety of ways. All shapes and sizes. It comes in the moments when the coffee is brewing and our messy hair flops to one side. It comes when the sun has set and we lay entwined debating if it’s late enough to go to bed.
Now we are at the end of January; the darkness still sits beside me through out the days, but it doesn’t hold me the same way. The darkness does not consume me. There is hope again. I’ve had moments of excitement for the positive things in my life. I was talking to someone recently about how I’m doing and summed up it feels not okay but better than December did. So, that is progress and I’m gonna take it. Progress is progress, even if it’s slow.