hi fellow writers! it has been a long time since i've hopped on the prose. i've been having some difficult block... i lost a lover so unexpectedly last summer and i so badly need to write about it. i want to tell our story so so so badly and i simply don't know where to begin. every time i try, i end up feeling stuck or disappointed that i'm not honoring him or myself in the right way. SO here i am asking for any advice on how to begin! where to begin! anything helps xoxo

And after the metal and drums stopped occupying space in my mind,

I walked across the city, my city

The apartment, my apartment

And I wasn’t so scared to let go of your hand

I walked across the city, my city

Whisky straight from the bottle

Your face on each stranger

Just like you once were

The apartment, my apartment

Much to small for our noises

I watched as we crumbled

Within eight-hundred square feet

And I wasn’t so scared to let go of your hand

Once it didn’t make sense

I still have the scar from falling into the shower

Fading by the day, by the day

somewhere between a grey and blue

the sky cannot decide it’s hue

i walk beside the railway tracks

of what’s to come and what has passed

graffiti layered on the car

i stop to let my mind roam far

the chill is soft, a winter song

i’ve never felt like i belong

in this city, locked by land

sands of time run through my hand

i think i’ll leave, i have to go

but darling i will miss you so

the west is calling out to me

to manifest my destiny

the road to myself is paved with green

and hues of autumn inbetween

i met some friends along the path

and found a way to slow my breath

the road behind is dark and grey

an utterly overfilled ashtray

though encouraged to forget

there is nothing for me to regret

with open heart and open mind

a purpose being now defined

i walk the road all paved with green

to find myself a life serene

I think you know that letting go of your hand is the only chance I have of suriving the mighty current. I think you know it is yours too. I think you know that when we finally let go, the rushing water will pull us in seperate directions. I think this is river is harder to manage together, I think you know we are sinking each other. I think I will loosen my grip and give life to my lungs once again.

when she dies, i want to remember her as she was to others. but

not as my mother.

not

in

the

way

she

infiltrated my life

like it was hers and never mine.

i wish we had created a world enough for the both of us. big enough to fit your pain and mine. i wish the garden we made together had grown. i wish there had been a big open room for you to love me the way i needed you too. i wish you had cleaned out the boxes from your childhood, made space for your addiction. i wish i had built a castle for myself, one where i could get away from you when i wanted, where i could paint my trauma somewhere other than the small and crumbling walls of our world. i wish we could have broken out, instead of staring at the rolling hills outside of the tiny window. i wish you had found the way out instead of me. i wish i could have left the room with you. i wish you had wanted to leave too. i wish you could see the world i made for myself. it has a garden. i wish i could show you now, but seedlings are fragile and i’m afraid they would shrivel. i wish that someday you will grow a garden of your own because you deserve to watch it breathe.

you decided to blackout on a tuesday evening, yes that was your choice. i sobered up the moment you compared me to my mother. the next day, your cheap, russian vodka was mysteriously gone. i had no intention of telling you the truth so i told you you had spilled it all on the walk home. but really, after puking out your poison, you slumped on my bathroom floor and i wrenched the stupid bottle out of your hands. i took a shot and dumped it down the drain. you chose to be an asshole and i chose to act in a way that disassociated myself from my mother. not sorry.