…the power in a pen I’ve looked death in the eyes a few times over. Though it had the face of a ballpoint pen. It is direct in its dissertation detailing the life laid before the paper. It tells of every inhale and footstep, I am not friends with death, it has not punctured my …
And when it was all said and done, you were gone. And I was here. And we were both looking at each other like we were stupid. To want to breathe is to want to be loved. To hope the air is kind enough to kiss your lungs. To pray the earth feels like holding …
To the child I could not raise, and instead left behind, I am sorry. This orphaned mindset is not mine and I do not want it anymore. To be seen and not heard is a child’s place but I’ve always been made of this silent, holy glass core. A broken-down cathedral with only the thorns …
