(no subject)
some stupid poet said, "grief hides behind trash cans." no. grief never hides. grief is not comparable to the tissue that didn't make it into the rubbish bin. grief rips closed doors from their hinges. grief invades bed sheets. grief blocks the light from the window, breathes on your eyelids and stares you right in the fucking face. i have no religion, no god. your sudden beautiful, generous, and wise apparition in my life was better than any promise about an angel. my overwhelming, unquestioning love for you is the closest thing i'll ever know to blind faith.