The People Behind My Eyes


A photographer, a doctor, some lady in a truck, the guy at the home improvement store, visitors to my home, the woman in line at the store, cab drivers, neighbors, bloggers, the face looking back at me in the mirror, a teen in a wheelchair with whom I shared a laugh, the man at the sewing machine. I can’t give trust to anyone right now.

I’ve vomited my heart out.

I’m spent. I’m still painting, still sewing, still hard pressed to breathe.

My friend’s memorial is tomorrow. I can’t go. I could disappoint or hurt the living but I can’t lay her to rest yet.

Sometimes Mary Jane snuggles beside me really close. I like it.

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