Ah, in all her glory, the full moon always comes back to shine her light on all things hidden within. Cry a river if you must. Like the salt of the oceans, the waters from the soul are mere reminders to cleanse and purge memories that haunt us when no one is watching.
I am of the firm belief that the ones closest to us often suffer the spewing blood of our open wounds, and in healing, we awaken a communal tenderness that flows and manifests into our surroundings.
There, she would rest. There, she would paint her walls purple, and sew a floral blouse with matching pants. Solace in Solitude
The thought of my dear boy never knowing this much peace? The peace found in between the freedom to just be? I will not dare entertain it.
Words. We speak them. We write them. We understand them (sometimes). They are the very essence of life. Be reminded of your Delicate Strength.