Cushion yourself with flowers on days that don’t shine. Light candles. Burn oil, love letters, plans. Make your music soft and your pride shy. The world will hold together, and the poet must rest.
confessions from an almost-married woman.
12 days until I get married, and I’m crying like there’s been a death. I guess there has been — a month ago, a close friend: the mother of two people I care about so deeply, who feel like family from another life. Many lives. It’s all tied together — the joy of creating the new with the… Continue reading confessions from an almost-married woman.
