Grief Written

You're scattered...and I'm not. I'm constantly at a stop light, Getting mixed signals. Stop and go, maybe just slow. It's wearing out my break pedals and my heart. You started writing me only to stop. I'm in an endless dance of you pulling me closer and pushing me away, Spinning in and out isn't so fun when you have nothing to focus on or hold onto. Dancers do something called spotting when they twirl, it allows them to turn without getting dizzy. But you haven't given me anything to focus on, or a finger to hold onto. Don't dip me if you don't plan on bringing me back into your arms. The floor and I have met way too many times. If forgetting is what you need to do, to be happy, please do. Just don't pull me down memory lane if you're not willing to accompany me down it. The thing with the nightmares is the longer they happen the less scary they are. If you know what's coming next it doesn't send your heart int

Hendrix? Luna? Maybe Lennon? I've only ever been okay at guessing. Why do you have to choose? You could be both. I grew up being told by my father that I could be whatever I wanted to be, and I believe the same of anyone. My children will grow up being told the same thing. I would never judge you. You only ever have to be yourself around me. I got a lot of things wrong, I made a lot of mistakes, But giving you my love and support will and was never one of them. I hope you will feel it for the rest of your life. All I want is love and respect, the real kind. But I'm okay with giving it myself for right now. With love, Shaely

Hi again, I miss you. That's nothing new though. I have a list running in the back of my mind of all the things I would say and do and tell if you were beside me. I have unheard words floating up to the ceiling every night, but it's okay. It gives me something to read when I can't sleep. Companionship in any form is always nice. What's your dog's name? I'm sorry about college. That phrase can be interpreted two ways. You're not stuck if you have an idea of where you're going. Maybe you just need a map. Writers block comes from an unconscious fear that people are reading what you're writing. Honesty is scary, especially when its the contents of your heart. So write like no one is reading but you. Admit things you don't want to say out loud, those are the things people really want to read. I wish things were different. I want to be the bandaid for all your problems. I want to be the arms you seek shelter in. I want to be the bed

This is just me checking in to say, I miss you. Sometimes I lay in bed and think of all the "could have beens" With the 1975 playing in the background. A band that I never used to listen to. I like to check in, and read blogs that never get updated. I refresh pages even though they'll never change. Hi. I'm just checking in to say, I hope you all get the endings that you wished for. I hope you all have someone to give your words to. I hope you are all doing okay. I was just checking in to say, I hope everything is okay. 

Loving you was an airport. Polluted air and waiting taxis and moving taxis and people with places to go. People who were coming home. People looking hurriedly at monitors or tiredly at the crosswalk street with a little bit of sighing in their eyes because they're home. It was confirmation numbers and printed tickets that you couldn't lose. The smudged ink on the ticket because I was afraid it would slip my grasp. I can't get where I'm going without a ticket. I can't lose my ticket. License please. Where are you headed? Where are you from? What's your birthday? What's your name? I'm stuttering even though I know the answers. It's security, walking straight. Trying to not look suspicious. Removing my shoes, placing them in plastic bins to be carried away. Are they dirty? Afraid that I'll track mud onto the carpet? No it's to make sure I didn't have anything hidden. Empty your pockets. Take off your coat. It has to be t