Think of each post as a postcard from the daily adventures of a poetess who misses you more than any words can describe. Please send your own back.
Monday, January 5, 2026
The Chill Runs so Deep I Forget Who I am Sometimes
Sometimes, I feel like a ghost when I read my own work. I wonder if you ever feel that way or if you've always been so sure of yourself and the things that you're doing you've never known anything other than confidence.
It's cold, the decorations are still up, and the haunting will probably never leave my bones, but happy new year and welcome back and I hope to see you again soon. For brighter days and warmer memories.
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