reached for basic black today red, blue and gold hang untouched in the closet lasso of truth forlorn in the corner too heavy for these

Reclaiming my inner badass at 50
reached for basic black today red, blue and gold hang untouched in the closet lasso of truth forlorn in the corner too heavy for these
I can feel the fading as color washes out of me I grow transparent insubstantial my feet no longer make contact with the ground I
the floor stretches before me black and white checkerboard tile feet glide soundlessly to the waltz in my head my arms arched as if partnered
This is an autobiographical fragment from my first year at the University of Pennsylvania’s School of Social Policy and Practice back in 1990. For those who
the Greek chorus has declared me damaged beyond repair incapable of a “normal” life “better off dead” say the well-meaning citizens than “broken” preferring the
notes on the piano haunting half steps like spring rain on my heart gentle at first soothing becomes a melody of blue melancholy penetrates deeply erodes defenses
I stand on the shore of an ocean named loss my eyes always drawn to the horizon scanning encroaching fog for the outlines of those
I keep you in a basket at the foot of my bed that I can grab quickly in case of fire or other emergency you
I travel a spiral path bare feet sinking deep into soft warm sand circles twisting ever tighter as I navigate this nautilus walls curved and