Grief is an exquisite taunting monster.
With tears merging into a continual rivulet of mourning,
One day I will outrun you.
Actually, it was her doppelgänger. This petite lady looked just like her, flyaway hair and all. Met her in the parking lot as she was leaving the store that I was entering. I waited for her beautiful smiling self to exit and our convo went like this:
Moi: “Good afternoon, sweetheart.”
Today is as bleak as an empty cup of coffee. They tell me that the numbers don’t lie. They say that to appease the stunned silent…and yes, I know what I did there. Not today grammarians. Not today.
The optimist in me left somewhere in the wee hours of the morning, right around the time the electoral college shat red numbers all over common sense, hope, sanity and balance.
There is no solace in knowing that the very same who voted for Donald Trump will find out soon enough that they are not the right kind of American.
“Write, woman. And, don’t get fluffy – keep it down to three syllable words.” ~ **The Rack**
It’s been a month since I lost my beloved. An ugly four week splotch of grief, thrown against the canvas of my soul.
Fuck cancer. Fuck undetected cancer. Fuck undetected cancer so aggressive it steals life before it can be found out. Kiss my grieving
For ten years, for three thousand six hundred and fifty days (give or take a leap year or two), we were together.
Laughing together. God, shi had the best laugh, genuine and filled with all things jovial.
Learning together. My heart did a somersault when I learned she was attracted to femme lesbians. Hers did too when, despite my affinity for queered-up butch pronouns, shi learned that I was attracted to the woman she was and there was no need for stereotypical affectations.
Most of all, loving together. Always loving each other, when life was good and not so good. And, strange though it may be I still feel hir love.
I hope I always will.