it has been a year
Photo Credit: Regine Tholen
I am forgetting what it feels like to stir the fat of hope into my morning coffee. Turning bitter water into 8 fluid ounces of smoothing over, a forgiveness ritual. But I can’t forgive or forget.
I have been forced to watch too much. My body wants to sleep past the glory of the morning birds cheering on another sunrise. They don’t find this repetition mundane the way I do.
I am having trouble remembering your smile. The way your eyes get a little bit smaller to make room for your fingerprint of joy. You still light up the room darling, of course you do.
