I am awash in a sea of faces and limbs and hair. A current that tries to pull me along: I am becoming an erosion of my former self.
Sediment. Skin and teeth and mineral and bone. Fragments of the organic and inorganic.
I have given up trying to gather the pieces and detached I watch splinters of my self fall away and become part of the landscape of my history.
I medicate myself with company. Literal alone compounds the figurative alone.
I hate this place. I hate this person who is wearing my face. She is unfamiliar and her proportions are all wrong.
He is gone and acceptance comes in starts and stops. I am sputtering.
My mind wanders but still it orbits the center of my universe.
George.
Breathtaking.
ReplyDeleteAt some point I decided to let grief drag me where it would, but wherever it takes me, even now, even the good days, my George is never far away.
xxx
This is such a beautiful piece of writing. I certainly recognise those feelings of being eroded away and of my proportions being, somehow, wrong.
ReplyDeleteGeorge will always be with you, always at your center. x
So beautiful. I can relate to so much of this. Thank you for sharing.
ReplyDeleteI appreciate the idea that these are feelings that I share with other people. It absolutely makes me feel less alone.
ReplyDeleteThank you for that.