April arrives relentless, a whirl of sunshine and icy winds, of sleeveless tops and hordes running along the river, you are not ready. 19 years it’s been now, the day still aches in you like an old fracture that moans when it rains. I walk along the river with the ache just behind my eyes and wonder what would happen if I just jumped in. Sit later on a park bench crying, trying to pick a spot that won’t interfere with the revelry of others.
There was a time when you believed
in change
When you believed that you would one day yet again find joy in something.
It gets hard to paint fantasies when your memories have been reduced to aches.
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