amelia

I’m streaming a river of feelings and naught, a river that weaves through my thought.

I could have died a thousand ways or not have lived at all. I could have sold my happiness for envy, rage, and gall. I could have drowned in grief and tears, and given up my soul. I could have followed on my fears to falter, fail and fall.

Sitting at the table under the tree canopy, a book in one hand, the other mindlessly rubbing your temple, you lose track of time.