The Day I Die

This is not the solemn low drone of letdown, with an honest knowing that life is as it should be. Rather this grief is the long traverse of deep sorrow into a valley, with stumbles over rocks and potential drops that leave you marred for life. It is a graceless fall, crashing along the way, to the bottom of it all.

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Commune

I sold my mothers dining room table last night. One of the last things my mother mentioned to me, in her right mind, was what a poor job I was doing taking care of it. She was right but I like to believe it came alive in the second part of it’s life, rather than sitting lonely in a room waiting for people to commune around it only a few times a month.

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