I am a blue jeans blue eyes kind of girl.

You are a brown leather jacket brown eyes kind of boy.

We both love falling into the depths of books.

You can’t get enough of everything from history to the wardrobe leading to Narnia, but romance has never really been your thing.

I can’t get enough of the spark between holding hands and eye contact for just a little too long in all the roma...

He hugged his daughter and wife, tightly.

His daughter and wife boarding, the doors closing, the plane ascending, the terrorists plotting.

His raised hand waved goodbye,

unknowing, ignorant, clueless,

as to what would happen.

He turned to leave, his body now in another’s hold, the chloroform soaked rag at his mouth, while everything went black.

He awoke to find his body now in chains, s...

You must understand, the moment I heard of your death my heart fell out of my chest.

It fell to the ground, and like a tender piece of fruit, it bruised.

My own two hands were wiping the globs of tears rolling down my face, with a searing hiss they burned my skin.

Grief was the one who picked my heart up off the dirt, and gave it a home.

It held my bruised bloody heart, like a piece of f...

Grief is a fickle thing.

It has such a different, unidentifiable shape compared to love, sadness, anger.

I can hold love in my heart, cradle it even. I know what it is.

I can allow myself to feel sadness, and nurture it with my tears. It is familiar.

I can throw my fists in the air holding my anger by the throat, feeding it all the more. I remember its poison in my mouth.

Grief hi...

You’re fine. You’re fine. You’re fine.

And then for the first time in weeks you truly laugh. You don’t feel the lingering weight of grief of your shoulders. You laughter carries through the heartache and the pain.

But you look over to see their beautiful face laughing with yours, and reality comes crashing back down again. They are not there.

It hurts all over again, like a fresh wou...

I narrow my eyes focusing on the horizon. There are so many fulfilled dreams and desires, just laying there.

I allow my eyelids to fall shut. Wind sweeps my hair into my face, as it howls with a broken cry. I am not there yet, but I will be.

Despite the looming gray clouds and the harrowing feeling in my chest, hopeful sun rays break through the sky, beaconing me to take

another step....

If your hand could reach inside my heart, what would you do with it?

If I held it out for you to touch pulsing, pumping, beating with life, could I trust you?

It is a raw bloody thing, yet even in all its tenderness it is strong.

I have given it to people who did not give a care, while I still did.

And I have bled and bled and bled, so much.

And still, I refuse to regret any of it. I r...

Your life here with me was like a poem.

One classic beginning filled with a terrifying beauty.

One classically ending, just like that, with a guttural, tangible pain.

Oh! Your story had barely been written, barely been given breath to its words.

In the womb you lived.

In the womb you died.

I loved you, before you, my darling poem, were written.

I love you still, after you, my darl...

I stared into my father’s red rimmed eyes, and I knew.

He is dead. My baby brother is dead.

I had really believed with every damn fiber of my being he wouldn’t die.

No. No. No.

Grief grips me by the throat. It’s hands

squeeze and squeeze

until I have no more tears left to stain my skin with sorrow.

My heart has fallen out of my chest. With every breath the pain only gets heavier...