deep red bells
looking for one thing, finding another entirely.
i am not the first. not the third and not the tenth and not the one hundred hundred hundredth. it is entirely likely that i will not be last, perhaps simply most memorable.
those gasps and groans, clutching hands and heaving chests.
she has been others' and i cannot stop it cannot stop those looks and faces and knowing glances and appraisals of her + me + every moment past.
some days i go hours without having a proper thought.
focus on clothes and commissions and yarn and getting to work on time.
laundry, dinner, keeping clean.
growing things, touching things, smelling and walking and reading and writing and thinking - proper thinking.
i think christmas might be a thing of the past for me. days of wonder and light, nights of blankets and hopeful wishes and waking up to people and noise and food and shiny papers and bows.
now just things, things to store and handle, things to tempt me away from a holy sadness, distract from a meaningless end of days of work-on-time and another-hard-day.
and i love her. and it hurts daily.
i am not the first. not the third and not the tenth and not the one hundred hundred hundredth. it is entirely likely that i will not be last, perhaps simply most memorable.
those gasps and groans, clutching hands and heaving chests.
she has been others' and i cannot stop it cannot stop those looks and faces and knowing glances and appraisals of her + me + every moment past.
some days i go hours without having a proper thought.
focus on clothes and commissions and yarn and getting to work on time.
laundry, dinner, keeping clean.
growing things, touching things, smelling and walking and reading and writing and thinking - proper thinking.
i think christmas might be a thing of the past for me. days of wonder and light, nights of blankets and hopeful wishes and waking up to people and noise and food and shiny papers and bows.
now just things, things to store and handle, things to tempt me away from a holy sadness, distract from a meaningless end of days of work-on-time and another-hard-day.
and i love her. and it hurts daily.