They awaken me from a deep sleep and try as I might, they do not leave, but linger
There is no comfort in these thoughts, just a sadness that weighs on me, a heavy quilt of patchwork memories.
In the end, the writing helps more than anything... It's not conversation, but the words need saying, the mind needs to share so that once again I'm able to rest.... But daily you're there, like an incredible sweetness on the very end of my tongue... And in the silent midnight pitch, tears well-up and fall.