Sometimes it would be such a blessing to just forget, but I never do. I never can. Instead I sit and replay, dwell, linger over every hurtful word and every broken moment.
It doesn’t help when that bitch Winter really takes her time, slowly and cruelly, before she lies down to die. With her last remaining gasps, her claws gouge hateful curses over ice, shit, and snow, while we hide, huddled inside and curled into blankets, waiting for it to end, hoping just to endure.
February can suck it. Good riddance.
Starving Artistry 