I am spinning the silk threads of my story, weaving the fabric of my world. I want to swallow the bitter seeds of forgetfullness. I spin and weave and knit my words, until they start to take shape.
I am measuring out my life with coffee spoons. Living one day at a time, one foot in front of the other. Breathing in and out, in and out. The picture of us is out of the frame. I gather the torn pieces of paper in my hand and let the wind cuddle them, like a fistful of glitter in the air. And like a faded piece of cloth; I am a failure. My soul is all wrong. All bent and twisted, all of this that hurts me so. What ever could it be that has brought me to this loss? I keep on expecting you to fade...
I am shaken tonight. Your voice screams from the shoeboxes in the basement. Our tearful words have turned back into steam.
I am a spirit, floating in the sky; disappearing into the never ending sunshine. Floating, weightless.
Oh, I don't know what to write about anymore. The feelings have lingered on, but my words have left me. What am I going to do? Without writing I say nothing, I have nothing, I am nothing. I am not sad. I am not happy. Nothing moves me anymore. I have missed you. All of you. I'm sorry for the silence in the past weeks. I am trying, I promise.