I tried to hold it in, but tears tear up anyway. I let it be.
~Musicpervs
It’s better I confess and move on.
I cry almost, … almost every other night despite this perfect ‘all is well’ cosmetic I put on.
Solitude. Loneliness. I swing in-between. Killingly.
‘Could haves’ clutters up my headspace. Blindfolds me. Squeezes me on my neck and hammers nail right through my literal heart.
Tears tear up.
And, I let it sway me.
And, I wonder after a while,… matter of fact, I wonder after every whiles that perhaps this is called ‘cleansing memories‘ of my grandmother’s final days.
Thence.
Understanding life.
Contemplating death.
Embracing fragility.
Steadily healing.
Namaste.
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