Z.M.S.

I wrote, recently, on this pinata type homemade sculpture, this art project we were told to write the things we hoped to let go of in 2011, I wrote his initials. And the minute I did, I felt awful. How can I ever hope to let you go? What would that cost me? And yet- I cannot offer you something better. I cannot offer you any glimmer of health or hope. As clean and good as I feel now... you are that one raw spot left, and as much as I'd like to offer you solace, I don't even trust myself yet with that.

How much do I long to be that safe space you run to?
Oh my. More than anything else I've ever hoped to comfort. More than anything else I've ever tried to be strong for. Do you know what that means? I have been strong for so many things. So. Many. Things.
And yet, for this, I can't.

Maybe you could find comfort in that backwards vulnerability. You mean that much- to mean so much.

Its so strange, when you can predict heartbreak.. and yet, with every utterance of your name, it comes. I didn't know, a heart could shatter so..