“The sun burns my shoulders a dark red, medium rare, cooked by the heat ’till I’m fit to be grilled. I peel away the layers like a snake shedding his skin, like a butterfly emerging from the chill of early spring.
Dreams are still flickering behind my eye lids, like the pattern of sunlight through the trees, and I am attempting to make sence of them as I weed this garden bed. Elusive visions of beauty and solace, a balm for my soul at the same time they rend it… Teased by midnight visions that do not find their way into my waking hours… Scenes of passion and longing that slide into the empty space in my heart and torture me with quiet murmurings and whispers on the wind.
It is moments like these that I learn to laugh at myself. To shake my head from side to side with a wry smile, thinking about when a person is empty, how they can mistake even the most paltry friendship for a chance at healing. Thinking about when a person is so completely alone, even the company of an asshole sounds like a good idea…
But today I am banishing these thoughts easily, just wiping them away like the doodles I draw in the sand. I am weeding this strawberry patch with a little grin on my face, basking in the feeling of not caring whether you understand or not.
Ignoring those promptings from my dripping wet heart, I pull another stray growth… They are called Forget-Me-Nots, but it is best to remember they are just weeds.”