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Dead Weight

The moment you become, indeed, happy and healthy – rid of the anchor that dragged you to the bottom, filled your lungs with water, and chained you to self-doubt. Only now do I realize that I breached the surface of that place some time ago. A glance back toward the blackness now reveals no recognizable reflection, but a man with a death-cheating smile that flashes toward tomorrow. Undoubtedly does a return to the abyss peak curiosity, but only as the sun shines upon one sparkle of that sunken weight not ravaged by rust. It is the type of curiosity, however, that elicits pity, not longing. How lonely it must be, trapped forever by its maker’s design, to disappear as the whipping…

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A jolt in the leg caused him to stir  — she kicked frantically in her sleep, running away from nightmares yet to become part of her reality. He pulled himself up in the bed. Rays from the morning sun had bounced off the white Denver streets to find a home on her naked shoulder, as if God had only raised the sun so He himself could better see her. Each morning he opened his eyes to the sight of her, serenity overcame him. He was just a young man, but it was the first prolonged cessation of sickness he had…

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An open letter to the man in the mirror

“Hey now — An open letter addressed to you. Sorry for treating you wrong all this time; I didn’t think the words would ever slice open those old wounds, or that the booze would infect more than it cleansed. Time heals until it decides to stab again, and it feels like we’re bleeding out at the base of that cycle. Sorry for the hope that things would be different if you changed. You did what you could, and I’m proud of you for it. There’s a nice foundation still being poured — can’t wait to see what you build from it. Sorry for continuing to push after…

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