Blessings through the weekend – I’ll think of those instead.

Cytherean Dreams

When I felt empty
and cold, pining for
a lost, impossible love,
I turned here, and
found my voice.
Doesn’t matter whether
anyone is listening
to me speak. What matters
is that I can, that
I have the ability
to create and express
my pain, which
turns it, somehow,
into joy. And then
I can take joy
in my girls, my work,
the coincidences throughout
the day that count
as miracles, the hugs
from friends, from those
just happy to see me
treating me like a gift.
Blessings through the day
and I’m full by nightfall.

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