My Sorrow

photo sun. nov. 28, am

more words from nov. 25th…

Keep singing, Cara, start up a little warmth in me; it’s warm how I’d like it in the room already. I wait to drink my golden flowers, as the sunrise lights up my tears— I keep them out of my cup; I wish it would dry them, maybe that would be too quick a fix then. Some of these are words I would sing, some are words sung to me, sorrow that had been built into the month without me knowing; sorrow without longing is a grace…is still sorrow. There has no bright ending this entry…A separate story, I will taste another cup later on…maybe with sun, without sugar or honey always.

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