Sorting through photos
And things she gave me
Throughout the years,
My chest becomes heavy
And my throat seizes
As the pain of our reality
Digs into me.
Innocuous things like
a notebook, chakra stones
or a gift card to the movies
Hurt the most,
So much more than the
Sentimental, valuable things.
I don’t know why.
I am crippled by these things,
Guilt stabbing at me
Until my eyes...
Continue reading...