Annotations
There is a lot of pain left here that I don’t know how to make beautiful, don’t yet want to turn into art because that would mean you’re really gone.
But the thing about closure is that you can’t force it to happen, no matter how much you will it to.
I have dragged my sadness up the street and through the door and into my home. I have taken my sadness 3,000 miles away and back — seen it use the welcome mat and take off its coat. I saw it once in the cracks of an old ceramic mug in the morning light and in my mother’s old grandfather clock that hangs in our living room. I have let it tuck me in and wake me up before dawn. This has been happening for a while now.
What do you do when you get so close to what you want, you end up on the other side of it? Hey, what’s a good return address on all this love left over? Can I still get a kiss for the road?