I’m a hoarder of moments, desperate to find gold in paper,
Something that I had missed before, like an echoing smile.
I walk in my loving, sweet Danse Macabre,
My fruitless attempt to make “treasure” worthwhile.
Category: Evee
1,096 Days With You
Three Lessons From Three Years of Writing 🤍
Reality Revisited: Dear St Ives
Chiquitita, you and I cry,
But the sun is still in the sky and shining above you.
How I Saw In 2022
New Years Eve alone had the potential to be a bad one.
Merry Christmas to the Grievers
Your grief is seen and felt, even at the time of the Christmas spirit and when all is merry. You are seen. You are heard. Your loved one, nor you, is forgotten.
Reality Revisited: All I Want For Christmas
Is a nice one.
A Boy Called Christmas
Usually grief is a concept pushed to the edges of Christmas along with dried out Christmas tree needles and discarded wrapping paper. I had heard of A Boy Named Christmas through flashes on screens in adverts. I thought “boy and mouse; what could go wrong?” Immediately, my heart sank as I discovered the children had lost their mother.Â
Dreams Are Like Angels
In my sleep, I descend the stairs and you rush past me, telling me to hurry up, people are downstairs and they are waiting for us. I’m confused, my jaw opening and closing like the door you just came through; swinging on its hinge at a loss at your presence.
Reality Revisited: Brand New
Why do we have this self-imposed idea that throughout our lives we are meant to maintain a perfect, crisp version of ourselves? Like untouched snow, or fresh school shoes that we don’t want to scratch.
Reality Revisited: Insomnia
I would like a conversation, where we talk about life and living and what it all means. Maybe after, my brain will turn into liquid and drip into dreams.