"We're reeling through an endless fall.
We are the ever-living ghost of what once was.
No one is ever gonna
love you more than I do."

Involuntarily bound to this house surrounded by rain and uneasy thoughts,

I broke down. The rain is collecting and my heart is flooding.
If I don't start to swim, I fear everything I've ever known will quickly
become sunken treasure at the bottom of this impossible sea.

Hopeless on the freeway, hazard lights ablaze.
Smoke billowing from underneath the hood, neon fluids escaping,
creating pulsing, narrow, neon rivers beneath my feet.
The action of having to pull over while cars sped past me
best simplified and metaphorically summarized my life.
Something has to change. I can't keep flashing my lights
hoping for someone to help me. Something has to change.

Having come face to face with them before, I thought
I had finally built an immunity to being haunted by
likely and unexpected ghosts. But seeing that I've been in ill health
as of late, I am just as susceptible to old feelings as I was before.
My body just fights them in a new way.
We're happy for one another; the ghost and I.
We waltzed through a memory or two.
I filled in some long overdue gaps.
My "What if?" questions finally received answers.
I bit my virtual tongue as to avoid rehashing
what I've worked so hard to bury.
It doesn't matter, though.
I'm better now.
Ghosts come and go
but what I have is here to stay.

The drunken conversation I brought to the foreground
was one of sympathy and compassion.
We cried. I felt invasive, but I had to tell him
and I had to know all there was to know.
Rain hesitated while all my words preceded question marks;
his answers proceeding silent pauses.
I held my chest as if to take my heart from its resting place,
giving it to him without precaution.
Barelegged, I sat on my knees by his side, convincing him that it was okay.
How a girl so beautiful, yet so completely tragic;
how such a tragically beautiful girl can love and be loved
so entirely and yet never see the love in herself.
She did everything to suppress the light within her,
while only one saw it bright enough to let it shine.
I realized how lucky I am to have the same one in my life;
with the same willingness to make me see my own light,
even on impossible and dark Tuesday nights.
Although we were slightly inebriated, I felt like we learned from things
we thought we would never even discuss.

I am convinced that my body is incapable of properly processing pleasure.
It's much too accustomed to various forms of pain to
understand that pleasure is something I'm worthy of.

It's been one month.
Most would say that one month is merely a speck of time.
Although that is true, it has felt like a lifetime.
What the future holds for this one month old, I am not sure.
All I know is that we've come a long way.

He fell asleep between my legs.
Searching for my soul is a truly tiresome juncture.

I love breakfast.