Healing is just like the poets and therapists say. It’s coloring your hair at 3am and drinking too much coffee so your entire skeleton vibrates and screaming out the window about how she ruined you. It’s quiet and dead eyes at noon and forgetting to exist until your stomach caves in. It’s losing and finding and losing again. It’s sitting on a park bench a year later, alone or with somebody else or you’re gone entirely.
[Written January 13th, 2017]