Friday, June 12, 2015

6 Months On, More Or Less

12 June 2015

The tips of my shaggy hair are faded purple.
Brown creeps back in, my normal;
the me that exists with and without you.
I long for normal, but grief doesn't work that way.
You’ll never laugh at my crazy hair,
never take my face in your hands again,
say my full name. No one else uses my full name.

How will I remember it?

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George MacDonald

"Home is ever so far away in the palm of your hand, and how to get there it is of no use to tell you. But you will get there; you must get there; you have to get there. Everybody who is not at home, has to go home."

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