At this point I’m more afraid of life than death,” she says, grey eyes meeting mine. Her gaze is steady, empty, and I wonder if she felt it, the moment hope slipped away.
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strands of melancholic wistfulness
all these what-might-have-beens
a haunting penance we leave behind
~ what is yet to be, our Hope
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we say there is after this
and our vision shall survive
tumbling
down
a
rabbit
hole
we say there is after this
and maybe, there is
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he cradles a baby hummingbird
whispering gentle affirmations
of unconditional love
only the broken
can hear
and somewhere in time
her fragile heart skips a beat
With every hug, I hope to reach the places in her heart that words can't, to heal the wounds that eyes can't see, and to give her soul a place where it can breathe and mend
“Paydays we’d wait for her in that old car hoping for a Marathon bar, the best cause they lasted so long. Then we’d get groceries and go home for supper. Table always set. Napkins in laps. Grace. Candy waiting. She never said I love you,” he smiles, “but we knew.”
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