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Like the outstretched ash of a cigarette that’s been inhaled too long, it hangs there waiting to fall. Its crackle, the one separating now from the next moment’s irreparable shatter, is distinct.

It pops and moans at a speed a sad heart can’t reach. So the change has time to take place before your eyes.

A slow motion goodbye, begging for a soundtrack. A high pitched, anticipatory whine that dances through the eardrum loud enough to numb the brain.

In an instant too soon, your stubborn abiding lips pop open to feed a brain starving for more than nicotine. Oxygen swirls eagerly to fill the space and it happens.

These tiny flakes of the togetherness drift downward. And one-by-one they are stolen by the breeze.

A shrill cry picks up volume and pushes past the paper pressed between your lips. A flood of tears drown the remaining flame.


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The knowing.

You settled into my dream. Stared me from my sleep. And told me it was time for a birth.  I asked if I could stay by your side.  A tender “no” was pushed from your lips. I stood to leave while the others danced around me. Your fear and my rejection walked me out of that dream.
That morning, grief was born. It poured from my body for 7 straight days.
You ghosted my life with coffee, clowns, and diamonds - A knowing that slipped between us. Then a person of your making began to stain my thoughts. He received the words I couldn’t say to you. And we connected over the beauty and pain you left behind.
We both miss your song.

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I live a life of impaired judgement. That’s why the wildest flowers rush to bloom in my arms. And stories filled with truth boom inside my ears. Your stories. His. Hers. And, my stories.
I can’t sleep with all these rules. The air is too thin. I want to learn to thrive in the thick of it. And, melt magnificently in the heat of it.
Unravel and tangle into all new knots. Find a way to slip through the cracks and expand to create space. Experiment with a stance that is completely still and strong. Then, crawl desperately towards the feet of everything I am afraid of.
Thrash around. Kick up dirt. And, rise again covered in messy, beautiful life.


Press the seed of this story just inside my lips
I will nurture it with warm breath and a low hum
Let it dance from the tip to the cup of this tongue
Then tuck it safe inside my cheek for later
When it's time to swallow it whole