Ghosts n’ stuff

In a sacred space I visit, familiarity illuminates the daze that used to be. In stillness, recollecting
the madness of gone days; some hazy, some blinding, some cheerful and
some sweetly vibrant. And those mostly blacked out
from memories reel, though partially, are moments I
recoil to feel—remnants of a former hell. When
everything I touched turned to dust, and the
only way out was up. Up and out, out of
the habitual destruction I knew too
well. I hold candle-lit vigils in
tribute to the dear departed
—burning any used-to-be’s,
traces of she’s that
were me.

escapril day 4: ghost

Andreana xo

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