I first read you
when I was wayward
and lost, wanting to find
the straightest line back
to the path I’d started on.
But you told me to stop
looking for the straight line,
to stop looking and then to start
walking, in no discernible direction,
just to start walking, and that whether
I found my way back—anywhere—
or not, at least I was walking.
I drank a beer first thing yesterday morning because the night was dark and full of terrors and I’m still frightened and, frankly, upset at just how God awful that final season of Game of Thrones was.
I suppose you think I’m talking about the President of the United States of America, but I’m not. Because this feels more important than the 16th President, the Proclaimer of Emancipations, the Addres
Because so I cry sometimes for no reason at all other than that when I had a reason to I felt as if I couldn't.
