a muse or more

where a little boy under a table with cake in his hair stared at the grown-up feet as they danced and swayed and his father laughed and talked on the long ride home and his mother laughed and talked on the long ride home and he thought about how everyone dies someday and when tomorrow gets here where will yesterday be? and he fell asleep in his brand new winter coat.

I remember when I heard these lyrics for the first time, my obsession started. I found them extremely poignant, and a new world was open to me. I knew that writing was a medium for me, because the music behind it didn't mean as much as the words did. I've probably heard that song a hundred times, and it still never gets old.

and throw away my misery it never meant that much to me it never sent a get-well card.

Today I feel my heart being put back together a little bit. I see fewer pieces on the ground than I did yesterday. The urge to scream in angst isn't there. I might not be able to get you out of my mind, but at least I can smile when I hear your name instead of shrink back inwardly. I can remind myself that there are more important people in my life than you, and the love we lost, and things I can hold onto.


like laughing with her



and playing with her.



and romping with her


I wish they were here.
But you know, they're only a plane ride away afterall.