Take it to the grave (or from)
This weekend I got the police called on me over a rainbow sun catcher garden stake I placed at my father’s grave. How you ask? Well it had been there for less than 24 hours, my sister, husband, myself, and brother in law showed up to the grave the next day on our way out of town to place flowers there, and the stake was missing. Now who would take something from a grave you ask? There was only one answer. My aunt.
Lovesick
What’s happening now is an undoing. It’s a ripping open of these scars, and an outpouring of love. It’s burning like molten lava as it leaves my body. It’s feeling bare and exposed. It makes me want to vomit