The other day I considered that this blog has run its course, that what is captured here is not so much for keeping you alive as it is preserving 11 years, as futile as that is.
It has served its purpose. I review the entries weekly, a sort of visiting the grave site, and indulge in the bitter sweetness that was you.
Was you.
Was
you.
We are tethered by two beautiful strands, but they are beautiful for the fibers within them not by the anchors on either end.
I cannot bear to think of you and I cannot help but think of you.
