How does this make sense?
My world opening up, deep breaths coming easily when I could not even skim the surface
just two weeks ago.
Just two weeks since my heart broke wide open for dozens to see.
Comfort comes two arms at a time, embraces around my shoulders,
my unworthy shoulders.
Still, comfort comes.
And tagging along, comes guilt. How dare you be happy? Are you so casual as to
forget to worry about your son? Your only son, I might add.
How is it you can eat and sleep and laugh when he is in peril?
How can you have joy?
The arms hold me up and I say, I have to have joy or I have nothing.
Joy in the past, present and future ties us together.
And we are forever.
That is how it all makes sense.
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