I used to think that I knew things
that I could figure things out.
I’m beginning to understand that life can’t be rushed,
that grief feels like being in the middle of a thunderstorm some days
and the dead of winter the next.
So cold you can see your own breath.
Someone said once that they thought that I hated being alone,
easy, that’s what’s wrong with you.
Maybe you’re right. Alone is the fucking worst.
I’ve started doing all of this extra stuff for my dog,
like hide treats in her dog food and taking her on midnight strolls.
I don’t even care that she naps on all of my new pillows.
That’s why you obsessive dog people are like that,
everyone want’s somebody to love.
Once upon a time there was a little blue eyed baby born in Kansas.
Why the universe decided that this lifetime was to be spent with you people I may never understand.
It is probably for all of the right- hard- reasons
that with time will start looking more and more like a perfectly executed ballet
bad choices and consequences on point, stippling around all of the majestic parts, waving their arms.
I sit down and have breakfast with death every single morning.
It resides in the belly of a man who likes an over easy egg and a piece of toast.
I think about legacy, leaving one, mine, and what that even means.
It feels like the only why,
but then again Walt Disney turned out to be an asshole.
And somehow she lived happily ever after.