Really evocative writing about losing your dear friend, trying to connect with the other mourners, watching their bad behavior, and kissing a woman there. Don't feel guilty about that. People eat big meals and have sex right after funerals. It's a way to proclaim relief and joy at still being alive.
I began to write how deeply I fell into your poem and experience you shared. Yesterday, I left it feeling hungover. As my fingers hovered over the comment box, my words tumbled up out and sounded clumsy, so I stumbled away. But your writing deserves more than me pressing a heart and moving on. I came back to untangle my thoughts.
I'm so happy to have found you.
The title of this one intrigued me. But I will read more.
This reminded me of an Aimee Bender story I love called “Quiet Please” about a librarian who tries to fuck the pain away on the day of her father’s death 🤍
I dreamed we were somewhere, the rooms were very long and made of wood. There was a lot of sun and you were getting it. You were lighter, your hair, and your skin was bronzed. I was supposed to be on shift but ending up sleeping elsewhere. I tried to catch up with you but the docks were as long as the rooms. You were gone.
Really evocative writing about losing your dear friend, trying to connect with the other mourners, watching their bad behavior, and kissing a woman there. Don't feel guilty about that. People eat big meals and have sex right after funerals. It's a way to proclaim relief and joy at still being alive.
I began to write how deeply I fell into your poem and experience you shared. Yesterday, I left it feeling hungover. As my fingers hovered over the comment box, my words tumbled up out and sounded clumsy, so I stumbled away. But your writing deserves more than me pressing a heart and moving on. I came back to untangle my thoughts.
I'm so happy to have found you.
The title of this one intrigued me. But I will read more.
This reminded me of an Aimee Bender story I love called “Quiet Please” about a librarian who tries to fuck the pain away on the day of her father’s death 🤍
I dreamed we were somewhere, the rooms were very long and made of wood. There was a lot of sun and you were getting it. You were lighter, your hair, and your skin was bronzed. I was supposed to be on shift but ending up sleeping elsewhere. I tried to catch up with you but the docks were as long as the rooms. You were gone.